The 49th Hunger Games: Tribute's Choice
by FireJayGames
Summary: This is the year before the Second Quarter Quell. This is the year everyone will forget because the Quarter Quell is next year. But this is the year that Barbor Klutch can't afford to be forgotten. This is his second chance, and it cannot be wasted. This is the 49th Hunger Games.
1. The Head Gamemaker

_Dear Head Gamemaker Barbor Klutch,_

_The people in the Capitol are all buzzing about the Quarter Quell, which I'm sure you know is next year. We need more interest in this year's games, or the purpose will be defeated. Make sure this year's games are unforgettable. I really hope you'll do well to please me, Barbor, as I find you to be quite an intelligent man._

_Sincerely,_

_President Snow_

Barbor sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee. The plans for these Games were almost done. In fact, the new mutations were down in his lab, waiting for his approval. He had to make sure that these creations were flawless. After that mishap last year... Ah, well. He must not think of that now. He had to put all of his energy into this year.

Barbor stood up and took one last look at his plush office. It had the perfect view of the busy Capital Streets below. People were bustling about, no doubt talking about the Hunger Games, which were to take place in a few weeks. He stroked his long, shiny black goatee that curled into a point. All that was needed now was his approval for the mutts, and then the Reapings...

He looked back down at his letter and swallowed. This letter was a warning. He was just lucky he wasn't fired last year. However, this President was good. He gave second chances. And this was Barbor's second chance. He could not disappoint the President.

He strode to the polished mahogany door and yanked it open. He walked briskly to the glass elevator and pressed the BG6 button for Below Ground, 6th floor. The elevator zipped away at his command. He barely felt it. These were the new and improved models, which could zoom up to sixty miles an hour and stop at the slightest touch of a button.

The doors opened into a white room. The Scientists were standing around a table, speaking in hushed tones, looking at something. Barbor cleared his throat, and they immediately made a path for him. He looked down upon this newest creation with satisfaction. He looked at the clipboard next to it. The thing had been perfectly cooperative, never doing anything out of line, easily controllable from the Gamemaking Room. He smiled, revealing his gold-inlaid teeth, and turned to Barbella, a short woman with Barbie blond hair and long, claw-like fingernails.

"And we're ready." They cheered in hushed tones so as not to disturb the creature, which stared up at them with beady black eyes. Barbor looked at it once more, greedily, before going back up to his office. With one final flourish, he signed the last paper in everlasting shiny black ink, binding him to these Games, forever..


	2. District One Reapings

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I fixed this chapter's errors (I think) and added some new stuff. Enjoy, my loyal readers! (Even though this is a tad late.)**

District One: Luxury

Rika Tiell, 17, POV

"This is the year. I can feel it." My Dad says, pacing around our small Dining Room. I sigh, taking a sip from my glass of water. My parents have been training me to be in the games practically since I could walk, and I've heard this speech a million times before. "You have to volunteer."

I almost spit out my water. They want me to volunteer? They are the biggest Career parents _ever. _Ironic, considering they never volunteered for the Games.

"I-I don't know-" I stammer.

"You have to volunteer, or we'll volunteer for you!" My Dad shouts, banging his fist on the table as spit flies out of his mouth. I purse my lips. I'm pretty sure that's not allowed. But if he is serious, he might get violent if I don't volunteer, and even the Capitol, filled with twenty-three others who wanted to kill me, would be safer than being home with him.

"Whatever. I'd better get dressed up nice, if I'm going to the Capitol." I stalk out of the room, leaving my breakfast untouched behind me.

Once in my room, I search through my drawers, looking for something suitable to wear. I am the biggest fail when it comes to fashion, especially by the Capitol's standards. As soon as this thought crossed my mind, my Mom walks into the room. "Here, let me help." She gets right to work, not even waiting for an answer. I sit there, listening to her muttering to herself.

"Nothing too flashy, but we need to catch their eye..." she says, tossing aside a practical cotton shirt. "We need to show off your muscles, but you need to be covered..." she throws aside my training clothes without a second glance. "Aha! Here!" She comes over, carrying a pretty silver tunic and black tights. She digs around for a second, unearthing a pair of awful black shoes that I'd tried to hide months ago. "Put on those nice shoes and you'll be fine. She walks out of the room, giving me some privacy. I put on the tunic and tights, but fling the ugly shoes back in the pile and choose a pair of black knee-high boots instead. These are more my speed. I walk out the door and towards the Square, not even waiting for my parents.

Once in the Square, I search for my best friend, Eva. She is on line, waiting to be checked in. I rush to join her.

"Hey." I say as they prick her finger and take a blood sample.

"Hey, Rika." she says, looking at me and smiling despite the blood. "Are you volunteering?" she teases. She knows all about me and my parents.

"Yeah," I say, rolling my eyes. Only around Eva can I be so nonchalant. "My Dad said I have to volunteer, or he'll volunteer for me."

Eva looks at me, eyebrows raised, as the Peacekeeper takes my blood sample. "Is that even allowed?"

"No. But someone else will probably volunteer before I can, anyway." District One always has a lot of volunteers. One of the eighteen year olds will probably volunteer before I get the chance, and I'll be spared for another year.

Eva nods, laughing. "There's always someone." she agrees.

"Ladies and Gentleman! The time has come to select our District One Tributes!" A bubbly woman with vivid red hair and an obnoxiously small nose says, walking over to the glass bowl which contains the girls' names. "Ladies first." She fishes around for a minute, then walks back, holding the small slip of paper high. She unfurls it. "Can I have Miss Penelope Qualton come to the stage?" A burly eighteen-year-old steps up, glaring at everyone, warning them not to volunteer.

I wait for a second, hoping someone else runs up before I can. The square is silent, except for my Dad, waiting by the rope, urging me to volunteer. "Congratulations to our female tribute-"

"Wait! I volunteer!" I scream, running up to the stage before I lose my nerve. Penelope growls at me and runs toward me, fist raised. Two Peacekeepers rush forward and grab her, escorting her off the stage as she screams fowl things at me.

"And who are you, dear?" Our escort purrs, happy to have a volunteer.

"Rika. Rika Tiell." I say, loudly and clearly.

In the crowd, my parents cheer the loudest. I swallow hard, trying to block it out. Little does Penelope know, I am more upset than her about my volunteering to be in the Games.

Haliun Gritther, 14, POV:

_Thunk! _My axe connects with the tree, burying itself several inches deep. Not bad.

I jog over and yank it out of the tree. It takes a few tries, but I get it out. It really was a good throw, even for me. I walk back to my starting point, swinging my axe lazily.

My backyard is the perfect spot for training. Trees everywhere to use my axe on. Another plus is that I can use the trees I cut down for firewood. I fling my axe again, at the same tree. The axe lands in the exact same slit, digging through another few inches. Perfect again.

"Great throw Haliun!" My Dad says, standing by the back door. "You're probably the best fourteen-year-old in the District!"

I grin, taking my axe out of the tree. It teeters slightly. Of course I am the best fourteen-year-old in the District. I am the tallest, the strongest, and the most charming, so of course I am the best and most popular. On top of all that, my parents make decent money.

After taking down the tree, (it had no chance) my Dad calls me in. "Time to get ready." I nod, putting my axe in it's waterproof cover and placing it under the small porch. I walk down the short hallway and into my room, throwing my sweaty clothes on the floor and grabbing the clean ones off my bed. They are nothing fancy, just a simple white shirt and brown pants, but that doesn't matter. What matters is the person _in_ the clothes.

On my way to the Square, I see my two best friends, Rory and Gridge. Rory is just getting his finger pricked. He winces. As always, I feel a small twinge of guilt when I look at his left arm. It was only an accident. I didn't mean to break it. But it still got put on my criminal record.

"Hey Rory. Gridge." They nod at me, and we start walking towards our section.

"Haliun! Haliun!" I turn. My girlfriend, Laurane, is running toward us. I open my arms and she falls into them, gasping. "I almost didn't catch you." she pants. I steady her. "I wanted to say good luck." she smiles at me. Her smile is so gorgeous, and what makes it better is that it is meant for me.

"You, too." I say. She pecks me on the lips, then goes to her section, the fourteen-year-old girls. Gridge snickers. I was always a little jealous of him. He has those gorgeous looks that make girls fall all over him. I am handsome, but nowhere near Gridge. "What?" I ask. He just shakes his head. After listening to a boring speech from our mayor, our escort steps up.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! The time has come to select out District One Tributes!" Our escort, Fedelia, says cheerily. She takes the slip of paper that hold the luck girl's name back to her podium. There is only one girl I would care about if she were reaped, but most likely someone else would volunteer anyway. "Can I have Miss Penelope Qualton come to the stage?" I breathe out a sigh of relief. But sure enough, someone volunteers. Someone in the audience cheers, but Penelope looks furious as she lets out a growl. There's a moment of excitement as the Peacekeepers drag her away. "And who are you, dear?" The escort puts the microphone in the volunteer's face.

"Rika. Rika Tiell." The audience claps politely, as always, but two people are cheering loudly. Probably her parents.

"And now for the boys!" She steps up to the microphone and reads the name loudly and clearly. "Will Mister Gridge Guntin please step up?"

Gridge walks up, and people start applauding. Gridge is popular for his looks. Every girl in the Square, even Laurane, is looking at him. All the attention is on that lousy Gridge. Jealousy flares up inside of me, and I run forward. "I VOLUNTEER!" I yell loudly and grandly, so everyone's eyes are pulled away from him and onto me. As I walk up to the stage, I note with satisfaction that everyone is looking at me. How nice to have every eye in the District turned on me, and no one but me, for once. I could get used to this.

"And you are-"

"Haliun Gritther!" I say, taking the microphone and interrupting her.

"And we have our Tributes!" Fedelia announces giddily, taking back the microphone. "Shake hands!" As I shake hands with Rika, all I can notice are her eyes, which are hazel-green. Everything about them speaks of intelligence. _I will kill you, _they say, and I realize that even though she is smaller than me, my biggest competition in the Games is standing right here, shaking hands with me.

Rika Tiell, 17, POV:

The Peacekeepers escort us to two separate rooms. I sit on the plush chair as the door closes. Each Tribute is allotted time for goodbyes, and this could possibly be my last chance to see my parents and Eva. My parents come in first.

My Dad is grinning from ear to ear, and I wish I could slap that look off of his face. "Well done! For a second there, I thought you wouldn't volunteer, but I see what you did! You waited for just the right time and made it look dramatic. Everyone will know who you are!" He says excitedly, like my life is just some big game. Oh wait, it is.

"Yes! And your outfit added just the perfect touch!" My Mom adds, just as happy that I am going into the arena with twenty-three others and only one is coming out.

"Whatever." I say. I can't even look at them.

"Oh, you are going to win, I just know it!" My Mother squeals, clapping her hands together and grinning. I don't respond. I'm sure Haliun's parents are saying the same thing to him right now. Speaking of Haliun, I don't really understand why he volunteered at such a young age. Sure, he's a giant, but he could have used a few more years of training... but this is better for me.

"Good luck Rika." My Dad says as the Peacekeepers usher them out. I look up, surprised at his gentle tone. Maybe he cares about me more than he let on.

Eva enters the room next. She looked worried and sick. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Are you really worrying about me when you are going into the Games?" Eva asks, sitting down and trying to smile. She shares the same views of the Games as me, and though she teased me earlier, she looks horrified at the thought of me going into the Games. She cares more about me more than my parents. "You're the one you should be worried about." She looks up at me with her wide blue eyes. "Why did you volunteer?"

"I told you already. I would have had to face my Dad's wrath if I didn't."

"You could have stayed with me at my house." she says halfheartedly. It's too late now, and she knows it.

"Don't worry," I say, "I'll be coming home."

"I hope so." She still looks ill, but when the Peacekeepers come, she grabs my arm with surprising strength. "Use a bow, Rika. You never miss a shot with it. Show them how good you are."

"I will," I say, but I'm not sure if she heard me because she doesn't respond. The door slams shut, closing me away from District One, forever.

Haliun Gritther, 14, POV:

The door to my compartment bursts open. Through it comes two people. My parents.

"Haliun! I know I told you that you were the best fourteen year old in the District, but I didn't mean you should volunteer!" My Dad practically shouts, running over to me. "You're only fourteen! You should have waited a few years!" My Dad is kneeling in front of me, his face tight. My Mom stands by the door, arms crossed and lips pouted.

I shrug. "Dad, I'm 6 feet tall. I'm practically an eighteen year old."

He sighs, dropping his face into his hands. "Whatever. It's too late now." His voice is muffled by his hands.

"Oh, Haliun," my Mom says in a voice half like a sigh of exasperation and half like a cry of pain.

"Don't worry, Mom. I know what I'm doing." She comes over to me and kisses the top of my head.

"Don't you dare leave me," she growls, taking my hand in her icy one.

The Peacekeepers come in, and my Father stands up. "I love you, son. I wish I'd spent more time with you. You have turned out to be a fine young man." He smiles before he leaves. I catch a tear streaming down my Mom's cheek. It's true. They always had to work, work, work. They barely ever saw me.

Lourane comes in next. "Haliun! Oh, Haliun!" She runs up to me and kisses me. "I love you so, so, so much. You have to come back for me." she begs. She sounds like every other teenager desperately in love.

"I will." I touch her cheek, then kiss her again. She doesn't have to worry- I can totally win this thing.

"Bye, Haliun," she chokes out,. Then she leaves, too soon, and two more familiar faces come in.

"Hey, man, why did you volunteer?" Gridge asks before he's even through the door. I bite back my retort and just shrug. Of course he wants all the attention for himself.

Rory just looks at me with worry in his eyes. "Don't let the bigger ones intimidate you. You can beat them all with an axe." He says. Gridge nods in agreement. I always beat him in axes and charm, but he always beats me with swords and looks. I can finally beat him in these games, once and for all.

"Bigger ones? Ha!" I snort, rolling my eyes. Saying goodbye to my parents and Laurane was hard, but saying it to my friends is easy. Rory actually cracks a smile at that one, and Gridge snickers. "Whatever. See you guys soon." The Peacekeepers come, and they stand up. "Take care of Lourane while I'm gone." I add as an afterthought.

Gridge nods his head and says, "I will." My eyes narrow at his statement. The door closes with a firm click before I can say anything else.


	3. District Two Reapings

District Two: Masonry

Cecilla Evans, 16, POV:

I twirl around in my extravagant red gown, blowing kisses to my imaginary audience. They cheer for me; they scream my name. "Cecilla! Cecilla! Cecilla!" They all call to me, they all want my kisses. I do a little pirouette, a mistake in these heels. I fall to the ground and land flat on my butt.

"You better not do that in the Capitol." I turn and see my sister, Annabelle, standing there watching me. I blush angrily.

"I meant to do that." I get up, slipping the heels off. My feet are already aching. She smiles.

"Whatever, Cecilla. Mom wants you in her room." She turns and walks away. Her less extravagant blue gown trails behind her, slightly too large for her small figure.

I walk down to my Mom's room, where she is waiting by her vanity for me. She gestures to the seat in front of the mirror, and I sit. "I'm going to do your hair." I nod, and her fingers set to work. She twists my hair and pulls it into a complicated knot. Everything has to be perfect today. I spent all morning scrubbing every last bit of dirt from my skin and practicing how I would say my name when I volunteered. Loudly and clearly, so everyone could understand.

While my Mother finishes my hair, I admire myself in the mirror. I am quite beautiful. I inherited the best traits from my parents; my Mom's golden-blond hair, my Dad's light green eyes. They balance out perfectly.

I stand up and pull her into a hug. "Thank you. It looks beautiful." I twirl around again. I love this dress. Knee-length red silk, with a big bow at the waist and roses decorating the bottom. "No one will forget me."

As I start down the hallway, I practice my walk. Heel to toe, with straight legs, in a straight line, with my arms strong at my sides. I catch Annabelle laughing at me and stick my tongue out at her. She just smiles, again, always so calm.

When I get to the living room, my Dad smiles. "Well look at you!" he says, examining me. I spin for him, and he gasps with delight. "Perfect. Oh, my girl-District Two Tribute." he says dreamily. Annabelle rolls her eyes. I bet she's just jealous because our parents never paid her as much attention as they have me. She may be smarter than me, but I'm prettier and stronger.

We get to the Town Square. It's done up nice for the Reapings, with banners and a stage. I sign in and walk over to my friends. People often say we could be clones, even though we look nothing like each other. We all act the same, though. And we go everywhere together.

"Hey Melanie. Genevieve, Gwyneth." I say, smiling and nodding at them. They smile back. They all know I'm volunteering.

"I love your hair." Melanie says, touching her own platinum blond hair, which just hangs down. The others nod and giggle, asking me to do a spin for them.

"Thanks. My Mom did it." We exchange a few more comments, but we fall silent when the mayor steps up. He reads the list of District Two victors, which is long. We haven't had a victor in seven years, though, which annoys me. The last few volunteers have only had the strength to pull it off. I, on the other hand, have the brains to balance the brawn, as well as my looks. Another reason why I should volunteer.

Our silly escort, Tinka, with her shiny gold hair and nails, bubbles about how excited she is to be here. Of course she is. Our district has more victors than any other.

"And our District Two girl tribute is-" she reads out a name that I don't pay attention to. I straighten my dress, touch my hair, then step up to the aisle.

"I volunteer!" I say grandly. People move aside as I step up, using my graceful walk. I don't even wobble in the heels, a plus.

"And what's your name?" she says, holding the microphone out to me.

"Cecilla Evans." I say in my most confident voice.

"And now for the boys." she comes back, walking too slow. I am impatient to see who my competition is. "Talon Striker." A rather large boy from the eighteen-year-old section runs up, pumping his chest and grunting. The audience laughs and applauds, louder than they did for me, and our escort giggles. I glare at him. How dare this _boy_ upshow _me?_

"And so we have our District Two tributes! We wish you both the best of luck, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

We shake hands. The crowd fades around me, until all I see is _him. _He is quite handsome, with those crystal blue eyes and cute dimples. We are both beautiful, and we can both pull a lot of sponsors. Especially together. But still, only one can win, and it _will _be me.

Talon Striker, 18, POV:

I swing the mace around my head and fling it into a dummy's chest.. _"That's the District One boy." _I think as I pull the mace out and swing it again, preparing for the next strike. It whacks into the dummy, taking off it's arm. I grin. _"And this is the District One girl." _

I slam the mace into the next dummy with all my might. The head sails off and slams into the wall, but I can't stop. I run up and strike it with the mace, over and over and over. I fling the mace down and start punching it, channeling all my anger into the District One girl.

I pull back when my knuckles start bleeding, breathing heavily. Of course, this dummy isn't the District One girl. But I feel bad for whoever is.

I glance up at the clock and realize I'm running late. This is not good. I have to be at the Reaping, ready to volunteer. Not that it matters. Every year, the eighteen year old boys in District Two hold a little competition to see who gets to volunteer that year. This year, it's me. No one else can volunteer, and no one can volunteer for me if I get Reaped. It's just the honor code.

I jog back to my little house in the poorer section of town. My parents are just lowly miners, so it's up to me to win the Games and bring our family honor and, more importantly, money. I have five siblings to help feed, after all. I've had to take tesserae, rare for most in District Two, but common in the poor section. We're a family of eight. We used to be nine. But this year, I will avenge Thystle. Those District One tributes better hope they die in the bloodbath, because it will be nothing compared to what I have in store for them...

The house is quiet, rare considering six children live here. It must be later than I thought. I throw on the first things I see, a white shirt and brown pants that don't look too bad together. I yank a comb through my hair a few times and pull on my Dad's old shoes, then hurry out the door.

The streets are almost empty, since everyone has already gone to the Square. The only people still out are the stragglers; the homeless, the elderly, and the ones with no children to be there for. I pick up the pace when I see an old beggar woman come over to me with an empty tin can. I have nothing to give her but disappointment.

I arrive at the Square. There is still one sign-in station open, and I run over to it. The mayor has already started his speech.

"You're late." The Peacekeeper says in a harsh voice.

"I know. I'm sorry." I say, holding out my finger. He sighs and takes my hand. In one swift movement, he pricks my finger and tells me to sign in. I write my name quickly and sloppily, since I already hear our escort speaking, then run to my section, flinging the pen behind me as I go. I hear the Peacekeeper muttering angrily about manners, but I don't even turn around.

I make it to the eighteen-year-old boy's section just as Tinka calls out the girl's name. Barely a second passes before a pretty girl in an expensive red dress walks up to the stage, trying to look cool or something, I guess. All I can notice is her fancy clothes and how my family could never afford something like that. This girl was clearly planning for this. Thorn, my best friend, nods at me, then at the girl, snickering. I give him a smirk. This girl clearly has the looks; but other than that, she won't be any competition.

"And what's your name?" Tinka asks.

"Cecilla Evans." she says clearly and loudly, like she'd been practicing all morning, which she probably had.

"And now for the boys." She thrusts a manicured hand into the glass bowl and walks over to the podium with it. This is my time. I have to volunteer just perfectly, so the audience will take note of me... "Talon Striker." she reads clearly.

I don't even hesitate. I run to the stage, pumping my fists in victory as the crowd cheers. I make a loud animal sound when I get up there, actually pumping my chest with my fists, which makes the crowd holler. My escort giggles, enthralled with my showy abilities. As predicted, no one volunteers.

"And so we have our District Two tributes! We wish you both the best of luck, and may the odds be _ever _in your favor." We shake hands. All I can see in her eyes is a little jealousy after I made such a grand entrance. But she hides it well, smiling sweetly. She is quite stunning up close, like me. Together, we make a stunning team.

The audience is still cheering as we step into the Justice Building.

Cecilla Evans, 16, POV:

We are led into the Justice Building. I have never personally been in here, but it is just as luxurious as the outside suggests. We are led to two separate rooms for goodbyes. In my compartment, I wipe the false smile off my face. I don't have to pretend, not here, not with my family. The door opens and my parents step in.

"I'm so proud of you." My Dad rushes over and gives me a big bear hug. I just scowl.

"Yeah, but everyone was paying attention to _him_. He's nothing but an idiotic caveman." I growl, plopping down on a chair.

"Then he'll be easy to beat. Arrogance can be your best ally or your worst enemy." My Mother calms me, coming over and rubbing my shoulders. She always gives me anything I want, tells me what I want to hear.

We sit for a while, discussing tactics. There's not much you can do when you haven't seen your competition.

The Peacekeepers come in, and they each kiss me again. They leave and are replaced by my sister. When the door closes, she sits awkwardly on the other chair. We both don't know what to say.

"Well... Congratulations, I guess." she says, watching my eyes. I nod. Then I realize something. My parents will tell me what I want to hear, but she will always tell me the truth.

"How did I do?" I ask her.

She shrugs. "You were fine. Just a little too sophisticated. Sophisticated doesn't get you much sponsors, but cockiness does. Just be yourself, and you'll be fine." I don't like what she's implying, but I nod anyway. Again, I realize something else about my sister. I always looked down on her; she isn't as pretty as me or as strong. But she is smarter than me. I wish I'd spent less time downgrading her and more time with her.

"Thanks. I love you, Annabelle." I try not to get choked up, but my voice cracks. I realize I haven't said this as much as I should have.

"I love you, too." she gets up and walks out, smiling.

Next comes in three familiar faces. My best friends.

"Wow. You're going to the arena. Wow." Genevieve says, touching her curly auburn hair nervously.

"You have to win." Gwyneth says, just as nervously, pulling her black hair over her shoulder. This is another thing we all have in common. Touching our hair when we are nervous, which isn't very often.

"Just gets some knives, and you'll be fine." They all leave after giving me a final hug. I don't worry. I'll see them soon.

Talon Striker, 18, POV:

I sit in my compartment. This is the only part I'm dreading. The goodbyes. How do you say goodbye to five younger siblings, tell them that they'll have to go hungry for awhile? It will only be temporary, of course, but still.

The door opens and my parents come in. They look proud, but I can see their nervousness. They know that if I don't come home, they won't be able to take care of five other kids.

"Listen. We need you here. You have to win." My Dad says, rubbing his forehead. "You know your strengths. Just don't let your weaknesses control you." He looks at me meaningfully. I know he means my hatred of the District One tributes. But two year's isn't long enough to heal from the hurt of losing your sister. The District One girl killed Thystle in the final two, just when we thought she was coming home. I just shrug.

"Use a mace." My Mom says. She's not the biggest fan of killing, but if it's kill or be killed, she'd chose kill. "I love you. Always remember that." I embrace her and they leave.

The door barely shuts before five kids come running in. My five-year-old brother, Thom, climbs on my lap.

"You're going into the games?" he asks, his eyes wide with excitement.

I nod. "Yeah. But I'm gonna come home, don't worry. Then we'll be living in the Victor's Village,"

"Wow." Thom says, and he jumps off and runs to the window, looking out at the Village. He can't see even on tip-toe, so I lift him up. He smiles down at the village. "Are we really gonna live there?"

"You betcha." I set him down and give all the kids a turn. Then they leave, talking excitedly about their new house.

Thorn walks in and collapses into a chair, like he's exhausted. "You gonna team up with that girl?" he asks.

I grin. "She's pretty good up close, you know? We'd make a great team."

He grins back. "Going to break someone's heart?" he teases. I just laugh. If that works for me, I will. My looks will pull girls in, but I won't use them as a weapon unless I need to. "Just do what you've got to do."

I nod. Thorn gets up and walks out. I have no other visitors. I have a sudden urge to look out at District Two, one last time, before I leave. I want to capture one last image of it, before I come back. Because when I do, I will be a changed man. Or no man at all.


	4. District Three Reapings

District Three: Technology

Ophlidia Haley Aulis, 13, POV:

_I run through the woods, next to Candace. She is terrified, and I know why. The District Two boy is gaining on her, his spear poised to hit her. She trips and falls on a stump and just lays there shaking. It should be me. I jump in front of the boy, but he just pushes me aside and thrusts his spear into her chest. He turns to me and poises the spear for the kill. I begin to cry as the spear leaves his hand._

I jerk awake, positive that I am about to be speared in the stomach. Instead, I wake up in my room. My cheeks feel wet, and I realize that I am crying. _It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me_. The tears fall faster now, even as I will them to stop. Crying will not bring Candace back to life. All I can do is relive her time in the arena, every single night.

I get out of bed. My feet are frozen. The tears have stopped falling, but my face feels swollen and tight. My heart aches with fresh pain as I think of what lies ahead. Reaping Day. This day, just last year, was the last time I saw Candace until she came home in a little wooden box, asleep, forever.

My eyes start to water up again, so I banish these thoughts from my mind. I walk down to our shabby kitchen, where Mom is making breakfast. My Dad sits at the table, subdued. Mother looks at me and sees I have been crying. Immediately, she abandons breakfast and pulls me into her arms.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh. It won't be you, it won't be you, baby." she soothes me. I want to tell her that that's not the reason I'm crying. I want to believe that it won't be me, but she said the same thing last year, and it _was _me. The only thing that saved me was that Candace volunteered for me. Candace, my best friend, and she's dead.

"I'm not really hungry." I pull back, and my Mother looks at me with sad eyes.

"Okay. Come on, let's get you ready." she says, leading me to my room, and my Dad goes to the stove. I see something glistening on his cheek and realize it's a tear.

My Mom puts water in the small tub. I step in and bathe myself. We only bathe once or twice a week, but everyone bathes on Reaping Day. I sink in the water, trying to forget the Reaping and the Games. But it's not easy, since the water is freezing.

I get out and dry my small body. I was born premature, and I have a growing defect. This makes people feel the need to protect me, which is why Candace volunteered.

My Mom pulls my hair back in a ribbon and slips a fraying brown dress over my shoulders. It's a bit roomy, but I like the extra room. It makes me feel more free, less trapped in this horrible world.

I go to the Square with my parents. It's quiet in town, the only sound the shuffling of feet and the breathing of hundreds of people. I wait on line and sign in. The needle hurts, but not nearly as much as the pain of losing someone you love.

In the thirteen-year-old section, I see Janice standing alone. She looks at me with sad eyes, and I know she is remembering last year too.

"Hey Ophlidia. Oops, _Haley._" I turn and see Katiana sneering at me. She bullies me because I am one of the only ones smaller than her, and I don't do anything about it. I'm just too tired to deal with her. She knows I hate my name. It's too extravagant for someone like me. Haley is more... me. More average.

"Just leave her alone, Katiananana," Janice says, sticking up for me. Katiana turns beet red. She hates it when people call her that.

"_Shut. Up_." she hisses through clenched teeth.

"Leave her alone." Janice says strongly. She is strong. I wish I could be more like her. Katiana swallows hard and turns away.

"Thanks." I say sadly. She's a great friend.

I didn't even realize our Mayor was saying the speech, but now the escort is going to the glass bowl. He digs around in the bowl until he finds a slip of paper he likes. He takes it in his hand and walks over to the podium. He licks his purple lips with a purple tongue before he reads out the name.

"Janice Wilkins." I gasp, and look over at Janice. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. _"NOT JANICE!" _My thoughts scream. I can't lose two best friends. I can't let her do this.

"I volunteer!" I say, stepping up for her. Janice looks at me, panicked.

"No! You can't do this!" she screams. I try to ignore her, but I can't. The tears come. Now they will know I'm a weakling.

The Peacekeepers take her inside. She's screaming at me. I just step up. I have something to prove. I'm not just weak. I am also strong.

"And what's your name?" Our escort asks.

"Ophlidia Aulis." I say, using my given name.

"Wonderful." he says gently. I close my eyes, stopping the flow of tears.

Samuel Sellers, 16, POV:

I wake up to the sound of crying. I prop myself up on my elbow and look around our single bedroom. I spot my Mom, sitting up in her small bed, sobbing. My Aunt is next to her, rubbing her shoulders, murmuring soothing things to her. Carefully, so as not to wake Donovan, I climb out of bed.

My Aunt looks up at the sound of my footsteps. She mouths the words "flashback", and I nod. She's having a flashback about Dad. He died in an electronics fire a few years back.

We used to be a happy family. My Mother, Father, Aunt Flora, Donovan, and I. We had a decent house, with enough money to get by. There was once laughter in our home. But with his death came a loss of money. We were forced out of our house and into this grubby shack. There was hardly any food. There hasn't ever been laughter in this house.

My Aunt gets up and I take her place, rubbing my Mom's shoulders. She heads to the kitchen to start breakfast. She opens a cabinet and swallows, hard. Then she moves on to the next cabinet. She sighs, clearly relieved, and begins making something with the grain. My tesserae grain.

I swallow. Seeing this grain has brought a new fear to the surface. Not one of starvation or depression, but one of death. The Hunger Games. My name will be in there twenty five times. Not as much as some of the eighteen-year-olds, but still. Even Donovan had to take tesserae. That's how bad off we are.

My Mom touches my face. "Grayson?" she asks, looking up at me with cloudy eyes. She must be stuck in some vision of the past.

"No, Mom. It's Samuel." she starts crying even more. She's forgotten who I am. It brings a pang to my chest, but I know it's not her fault. "Come on. Time for breakfast."

We eat our breakfast of mushy grain in silence. Donovan looks subdued. It's his first Reaping, and he's in there five times, like I was on my first Reaping day.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine." I promise him. He just looks at me with scared eyes.

After breakfast, I put on my nicest clothes. A white shirt and black tie, with khaki pants. Not the best clothes, but at least it's something. I help Donovan with his tie, then we walk to the square.

Seeing all the other boys calms me somewhat. All of these other boys are in there, too. I probably won't be picked. But seeing the Reaping Balls erases my calm and, if anything, brings the fear back with more force. My name is in there twenty-five times, and Donovan's is in there five times. Not that he'll be going to the Games. I will volunteer for him if he is picked, without a hesitation. There are no other kinds of volunteers in District Three.

After signing in, I walk over to my pen. Oops, I mean, _section. _It's a joke, really, how they have us roped off like animals to the slaughter. Oh wait, we are.

I nod to some of the other boys, and they nod back, solemnly. I am friends with almost everyone in the District, but I have no real "best friends." No one will be volunteering for me if I get reaped.

The Mayor reads her speech. Our escort looks at her with a strained expression as she reads it in a monotone. You can tell he wants to snatch it out of her hands and read it himself, and put some life into it. It's sick.

I look around, bored. I see a commotion in the thirteen-year-old girls section. One of the girls is picking on a rather small one, under four feet tall. I feel the strangest urge to stop the bullying, but one of the other girls does, and the bully storms away, red-faced.

"Janice Wilkins." Gorgon, our escort, reads. I search the crowd to see who it is. The crowd of thirteen-year-olds parts around the girl who stood up to the bully. She looks stunned.

"I VOLUNTEER!" someone screams. I can't see who it is at first over the heads of the people. I am shocked to see that it is the tiny girl, the one who was being picked on. This _shrimp_ is _volunteering?_ That girl must be very important to her.

The girl steps up to the stage, crying, and Peacekeepers carry the other girl away, screaming. "And what's your name?"

"Ophlidia Aulis." She says, still crying.

"Wonderful." He says in a sad voice. Then he dips a hand into the boy's ball. He takes the first slip he touches and walks over. He smiles with his purple lips before reading the name. "Samuel Sellers."

The breath whooshes out of me like I was just punched in the gut. Tears spring to my eyes. I hear a shriek in the crowd. It must be my Mother. Who else would shriek for me?

I make my way up to the stage. No volunteers. I want to cry right now, but I can't It's like I'm in a dream. My limbs move without any conscious control. "Any volunteers?" the crowd is silent. The only person who would volunteer is Donovan, but I made him swear not to. "Shake hands." he says, turning back to us.

My face is reflected back in the mirrors of her large eyes, and I am happy to see that I look stoic on the outside. One eye is deep blue, and the other is blue-green. Fascinating.

"Good luck to our District Three tributes!" The Square is silent, and we are ushered inside.

Ophlidia Haley Aulis, 13, POV:

My tears fall freely now, staining the purple velvet I'm sitting on. I curl into a ball, my arms wrapped around my knees.

My parents run in. They are crying, too. They run over to the little couch and wrap their arms around me, kissing my head.

"My baby, my baby, my baby." My Mom rocks back and forth, soothing me, just like she did when I was little. Only instead of using a soothing voice, hers is one of desperation. I cling tighter to them, dreading the moment when I am forced to let go.

"I love you so so so much.. Why? Why? WHY?" My Dad screams, tears streaming.

"I-I had t-to." I stammer, gulping for air. "I c-couldn't let her d-die t-t-too." My breaths are coming in gasps. The Peacekeepers come in, and I cling tighter to them. All too soon they are torn from my grasp, and I am left there, alone.

Janice comes in next. She isn't any calmer than when the Peacekeepers took her away at the Square. She runs up and grabs the collar to my dress, shaking me. "Why did you volunteer? Why?" I can't answer her. How can I explain that I couldn't go through losing too best friends? That instead I will let her go through it.

"Here." She says, pressing something into my palm. I look down at it and gasp. It's one of Candace's earrings. When she went to the Games, she brought one earring with her, and gave one to us. Now it will be my token.

"No." I croak, trying to give it back to her. "I'm going to be dead soon anyway. Keep it."

"Don't say that!" Janice says, a wild look in her eyes. "You never know! You might come home..." she breaks off. We both know I'm not coming home. In an arena full of sniveling thirteen-year-olds like me, I would stand a chance. In an arena full of buff eighteen-year-old killing machines, I might as well kill myself right now. But they won't allow it.

"I'll try." I say doubtfully. She must be delirious if she thinks I can win.

"You can't leave me." she says. The Peacekeepers come in and take her away. She doesn't fight them. Her shoulders sag like she's too tired to do anything, ever. Ironic that she doesn't want me to leave her, but she just left me.

I have no other visitors. Not surprising, really. Most of the other kids in District Three just go along with Katiana because it's easier than standing up to her. I don't blame them, really. It's just like what we allow the Capitol to do to us.

Samuel Sellers, 16, POV:

Waiting in the plush room is difficult. What I want, more than anything, is to get out of here and get a breath of fresh air. But I can't. Instead, I look out the wide window and imagine how the fresh air would feel, how it would clear my head.

The door opens and my Mom comes, in supported by my Aunt. Her face is frozen in a mask of shock.

"Samuel?" she looks at me like she can't believe her eyes. At least she remembers who I am.

"Yeah, Mom. It's me." I respond, taking her hand and leading her to the little loveseat.

"What happened?" she takes my face in her icy hands. It feels good. It's too hot in this room.

"I'm going into the Games, Mom." I say gently, so as not to frighten her.

"Why?" her grip tightens, and Aunt Flora rubs her shoulders in the usual spot.

"Because I was Reaped. But don't worry. Donovan is okay." I say. Then, fiercer. "Aunt Flora, don't let her go. Don't let her out of your sight." She nods. We both remember that terrible night. That first night, when my Mom tried to hang herself.

The Peacekeepers escort them out, and Donovan comes in. He's shaking like a leaf.

"I told you you would be safe." I say, and he sits next to me. He ignores my attempt to lighten the mood.

"You have to win." He says. "You're good with people, and you're very agile." I nod. It's nice to know that he believes me. "If you win, we can get the medicine for Mom." This, more than anything, grabs my attention. The Doctors prescribed some fancy Capitol medicine for her, something we could never afford. But if I win, we could get it for her.

"I will." I say. He hugs me one last time, and the Peacekeepers take him out. The room was hot to me earlier; now it feels cold and empty, like the body that will return to the district, asleep, forever.


	5. District Four Reapings

District Four: Fishing

Hunter Blackthorne, 17, POV:

"_Wake up!_" My Mom hisses in my ear. I just roll over. "Hunter!" She growls under her breath. "Fine. I'll be the bad guy." She grabs something on my bedside table. I shoot up, gasping, as she throws icy water all over me. "Get up! _Now!_"

I get out of bed, throwing the wet blanket on the floor. Throwing water on me? This was a new low. I go over to my wardrobe and pull out my training clothes; a T-shirt and shorts. I pull my hair into a ponytail. I like my hair. It starts out chestnut, but turns golden at the ends.

As I walk out the door, my Mom hands me a roll of bread, tinged green from seaweed. Nice Reaping Day breakfast. While everyone else gets to sleep in and eat good food, I'm kicked out to go train with a piece of bread.

At the Training Academy, I see that I am utterly alone. Not even the trainers are there. I sigh and pick up my bow. It feels good in my hands, smooth, chestnut, and light. I notch an arrow and take a practice shot. It hits the bull's-eye. I love shooting. I can do things with a bow that I could never do to my Mother.

I lose myself in the shooting. I hit the dummies in every station; even the spearing, which is on the other side of the room. I'm so lost, I don't even realize that I'm not alone until I hear someone clapping.

I snap out of it and turn sharply. Zoey Bennet is standing there, applauding for me. I blush, embarrassed. "Hey Zoey. I didn't know you were here." I put the bow down and look around. There's an arrow in almost every dummy.

"Please. I knew your parents would make you train today." She walks around the gymnasium with me, plucking the arrows out of dummies. She knows me so well. She's my only friend, and she's all I need.

We move on to knives. I'm good with knives, but I am nothing compared to her. She's as good with a blade as I am with a bow.

About an hour later, we pack up our stuff. I'm grateful that she came today. She comes everyday, because she knows my parents make me get up at five every morning so I can get a head start. "Thanks for coming." I say.

She just smiles. "I always do." We separate, her going to the right, me to the left. I always enjoy my time with her. She's the only other girl in this district who isn't obsessed with boys. Don't even get me started on the boys. They can hit on me whenever they want, but they're all just idiots. I can't stand talking to them.

I go home and get ready for the Reaping. I see my parents in the dining room, sitting around the table. I pause for a second, shocked to see my Mother crying. Then I see the photo clutched in her hand. It's of Hansel, my older brother. I never knew him, but he died in the Games when I was a baby.

I almost go in there. Almost. But I keep walking. She may use her sadness over losing my brother as an excuse to force me to train, but that doesn't soften my feelings towards her. She has my Father to comfort her. She never comforted me when I was hurting.

I pick out a drab gray dress. I don't need anything fancy since I don't plan on volunteering. Then I go out to the Square without even waiting for my parents. I'll see them later, anyway. There's one good thing about them: no matter how hard they train me, they never want me to volunteer. They already lost one child, they don't want to lose another,

I sign in, impatient. I want these Reapings over so I can go home and get this dress off. I don't like the way some of the boys are looking at me. I notice one in particular, with blond hair and hazel eyes. I bite back a growl and stalk over to my station.

"I hate this dress." I mutter to Zoey. She just smiles. She's good at hiding it, but I can see she's nervous, too.

Everyone stands in the required respect during our anthem. On the screen, a flag of our nation waves. When it's over, the Mayor steps up to the podium. I honestly try to pay attention, but all I can think about is this dress and how I can't wait to get it off.

"Welcome, welcome. Let us select our female tribute!" Our escort, who I refer to as "The Pink Lady," because everything about her is pink, goes over to the Reaping ball and plucks a name. I hope it's not me. District Four hasn't had a volunteer in years. We do still train, but only halfheartedly. The real Careers are from districts One and Two. She clears he throat, trying to draw out the tension. "Hunter Blackthorne."

I freeze in disbelief. A second passes, and I start walking to the stage. I try to keep a straight face, but not for the reason people may think. It makes me want to laugh out loud, the idea of getting away from my crazy parents. Our escort continues in her bubbly manner, and selects the boy tribute. I realize that he is the boy I noticed earlier, staring at me. He looks a little shocked, but other than that, he seems unfazed. _Let the Games begin, I think_, shaking his hand lightly.

Sven Haphesby, 16, POV:

I lay peacefully on my back, letting my body become one with the water. It feels good, the cool water beneath me, the baking sun above. I float on the sea, gently moving with my water. I feel a disturbance and open my eyes.

"Gah! You got me!" Andra says, splashing me with water. I grin and fall under the waves. I allow myself to drift underwater for an instant. Then I surface, and spray water out of my mouth at her. "Ew!" She shrieks, falling back and ducking under the water. I dive after her, and she starts swimming away.

"No, wait! Come back!" She stares at me, suspicious. "Truce?" I say, holding out my hand.

Andra wades over to me and sticks out her hand. I am just about to grasp it when she pounces on me. We both go under, and we wrestle for a few seconds. I poke her in the stomach, and we surface, laughing.

"Okay, I give up, Sven Haphesby. Truce." We bodysurf up to the beach. We climb out of the water, shaking sea spray out of my hair. Andra laughs and ducks out of the way. We collapse on the sand, breathing heavily. "I have to say, you are a great swimmer." She says, looking up at me. Andra is my best friend. She is the only girl I can totally be myself with.

"I know I am." I say, and she throws and handful of sand at me. I just grin at her. She gets up, brushing sand off her legs, and rolls her eyes.

"Whatever, Sven. See you at the Reapings." She says. She walks off. I watch her for a minute, then get up. I would love to stay here all day with her, but I have to get ready, too.

I jog the familiar path home. Compared to my easy morning, this will be tough. I knock tentatively on the door. No answer. Not really a surprise. I push the door open, gently, so as not to wake my Father and send him on a murderous rage. As I guessed, he is passed out on the couch, drunk. I sigh and pick up the empty bottle on the floor. Looks like I'll have to make my own breakfast. Again.

I make some eggs for myself, then go to my room. I don't bother leaving any for him. I'll make him something when I come home. He probably won't even be awake when I get home.

In my room, I search until I find some suitable clothes. A nice button-down shirt and pants. I yank a comb through my wet hair. It's knotty, but I get it into a suitable style. It looks more bronze than blond in the lighting, and it makes me look more like a surfer. I have the body for it, and girls are all over me. But I only really need Andra, and she is the only girl who doesn't seem fazed by my looks.

I head out the door, leaving a note to explain my whereabouts on the off-chance he surfaces before I return. I hurry along to the Square. I want to see Andra before they start. I see her on line, and run to meet her.

"Hey." I say. She looks up at me.

"Hey." I stop for a second. She looks stunning. Her red hair is pulled back in a headband, and she's wearing a pretty coral dress that must have been her mother's. Her wide, sea-green eyes are wide and lovely.

"You look good." I say, surprised. I never really noticed how beautiful she was.

"Thanks." She says, rolling her eyes. Then, more seriously, "You too, Sven." Then she blushes.

"Well, see you later, Andra." I say. Then, so quickly that I don't see it coming, she wraps her arms around me in a quick hug. Before I can do anything about it, she is gone, and I am left there, stunned.

I look around the Square, trying to name the emotion I am feeling. My gaze falls on a girl with short, chestnut-colored hair and eyes that seem to change color. She scowls at me, clearly uncomfortable with my staring, and stalks off towards the seventeen-year-old section.

I go to the sixteen-year-old area and wait patiently for the Reapings. I'm not worried. I'm not going to be picked.

"Welcome, welcome. Let us select our female tribute!" She picks a name. "Hunter Blackthorne!"

The girl I noticed earlier, the one with the strange eyes, steps up to the stage. She is keeping a straight face, but I can see from her expression that she is trying hard not to laugh. Strange.

"And now for the boys!" She chooses a name carefully. "Sven Haphesby." I look up, shocked. The boys in my section all stare at me. I blink and plaster an uncaring expression to y face, and make my way to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our District Four tributes!" The crowd claps lightly, but I am stuck staring into those strange eyes. She doesn't like me, I can tell, but I won't let that bother me. She would be a good person to have on my side.

Hunter Blackthorne, 17, POV:

I let go of his hand the second The Pink Lady stops talking. It was sweaty and gross. I turn and march into the Justice Building, not even waiting for Sven or our escort.

In my little compartment, I finally have room to breathe. I crack a smile. _I'm getting away from District Four. _It's an irrational thought. The Games are a bad thing. But if they're so bad, _then why am I smiling?_

My Mother and Father come in first. My Mother has the strangest expression on her face, like she's trying hard not to cry. My Father just has this pained look on his face, like I'm already dead.

"Oh, Hunter!" My Mother hugs me, and I stiffen. This was the same woman who dumped water on me this morning. How dare she just hug me like this after kicking me out with a loaf of bread for breakfast?

"Let go of me, Mother!" She gasps, a sad look on her face, and pulls away. Her lower lips trembles, but I just glare at her. "Stop pretending that you care."

"We do care!" My Father says angrily. "Why do you think we pushed you so hard? It was in case this happened. We can't lose another child."

"It's always about Hansel. I'm freaking Reaped, and you still bring him up." It's harsh, I know, but this is what they were doing to me for years. My Mother gets up and runs out, crying.

"That is no way to act, young lady! Do you know she's been crying herself to sleep, sick with worry, for _you? _Losing Hansel changed her. Losing people you love does that to you." He looks at me one last time and storms out. I just sit there, sulking, until the next person comes in. It's Zoey.

Zoey and I had made a pact long ago. If one of us was Reaped, the other wouldn't volunteer. She'd upheld her end of the bargain perfectly.

"Listen, I want you to use this locket as your token." She hands me my locket. It's golden, with a fancy _H _on the front. Inside is a picture of me and Zoey together. "I went to your house and got it. It's so you'll remember me when you're in the Capitol." She smiles gently. I pull her into a hug. She has become more to me than a best friend in these past few days; she's become my sister.

"Use a bow. They'll give you a good score, and you can get sponsors. You'll have to team up with the Careers, even the boys. Just lay low, kill them when it gets to be time. I'll see you on the big screen." She gets up to go.

"Thanks, Zoe. You're the best friend a girl could have." She smiles, a tear falling down her cheek.

"You too, Hunter." She leaves, and I'm left alone, with nothing but a little gold locket and thoughts of my family.

Sven Haphesby, 16, POV:

Hunter lets go of my hand as soon as the escort stops talking and looks at me with disgust. I look at my hand. It looks perfectly fine to me. I look up and see she's already gone. Well. Looks like she'll be hard to align with.

We are led to two separate compartments. I sit there. I know that I'll only have one visitor-Andra. My Father's passed out, drunk, my Mom's dead, and my brother-He's not in the picture anymore.

I look up as Andra comes running in. She flings herself into my arms, panting. I fall back as she hits me and land on the loveseat. She blushes and scrambles off me, sitting upright. I see that she's crying.

"Andra?" I ask. I've never seen her cry. It makes her sea-green eyes look more bluish. They're lovely, so pretty.

"God, Sven. Why did you have to get Reaped?" I have the strangest urge to reach out and brush a tear from her cheek, but I hold back. Then, suddenly, I just do it. Why should I hold back when I could be dead in a few weeks?

I brush the salty tear away. Her face feels warm to the touch. She sighs and closes her eyes. A lump forms in my throat when I look at her. How could I have never noticed how beautiful she is?

"Sven, I have something to tell you." She looks at me, and I nod. "I-I love you." My breath catches in my throat. _She loves me?_ This fact seems glaringly obvious as I look back at the past. The way she laughed at all my jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she saw me... everything. I have a strange feeling in my chest, a feathery warmth. I realize that I love her, too.

"I love you, too." I say. I pull her into my arms. The Peacekeepers come in then, and they start to pull us apart. I clutch her frantically, and she clutches me, as the Peacekeepers pull us apart. I lean in to kiss her, just once, before I leave. If I never come back, I want to at least have this.

The Peacekeepers pull us apart before I have a chance. I jump up and run to the door as they carry Andra away. "Andra! Andra!" I shriek, pounding on the door. I get no response. A tear rolls down my cheek. I was so close.

I fall into a chair. Now I have to win. To get home to Andra. To have that kiss I never got.

The door opens, and I look up hopefully. _Andra? _I see who it is, and my lip curls up. How could he show up now? He never did when I was struggling to support my Father and I, he never came when I needed him. But yet he came now.

"Raleigh?" I growl.

"I know you don't like me-" He says, anticipating what I'm feeling.

"_Don't like you? _No, I don't not like you. I _hate_ you." I spit at him. I would rather spend all my time with Andra than this slimy excuse of a brother. "How could you leave us?"

"I grew up. Maybe you should, too." This hits me like a slap in the face. I'm a thousand times more mature than him. He ran away when things got tough. I stayed. He's nothing but a coward.

"If you think you _grew up_, then you're wrong. I've become the man of the house, the supporter, _I've_ grown up." He looks at me, his lips tight.

"I didn't leave because I was afraid. I left because _Fallis _made me." He says our Father's name like it's something disgusting.

"You- what?" I ask, dumbfounded. I never knew Father _made _him leave.

"Oh, he didn't tell you that part of the story?" He says with mock surprise. "Well, he told me that he couldn't afford to take care of two kids. He said I would never grow up to be anything special, so he threw me out. He said he was keeping you, though. You were always his favorite." He says, watching my face as I take all this in.

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. Just win." He gets up and leaves. I sit there, shocked, trying to absorb this. Out of everything that's happened today-being Reaped, realizing I love Andra- this is the most shocking. _Let the Games begin._


	6. District Five Reapings

**Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with me so far! I hope you like the Reapings so far. I'm trying to make each person "memorable." At the end of the Reapings, I'm going to have a little "Reaping Recap." I'm not really sure how I'm doing the Capitol chapters, so if you have any ideas, send them my way. Also, if you are interested in submitting a tribute, check out blueyoshguy's story. I'm in it!**

District Five: Power

Aria Franks, 18, POV:

"Aria? Aria?" A small hand wiggles my shoulder, and I open my eyes. Miana, my little sister, is standing there, tears in her eyes. "I had a nightmare."

"Come here." I sit up and make room for her. She climbs into my lap, just like when she was little, and leans her head against my shoulder. "What was it about?" I ask, stroking her hair.

"You were Reaped." she looks up at me with sad eyes. My hand freezes mid-way through her hair,

"What?" I ask. Not a question, more of a statement.

"You were Reaped and you died and there was no one to take care of us." she says. I bite my lip. It's true. If I died, there would be no one to take care of them. Well, I shouldn't say that. My older sister, Lizabeth, would be able to, but she has her own daughter to take care of.

"Don't worry. I won't be Reaped." I try to think of something to change the subject. "How about some breakfast?" Miana's piercing green eyes, same color as mine, light up. "Come on." I grab her hand and take her to the kitchen. She's ten years old, but she is so sweet and innocent, she could be six.

I stand at the stove as the eggs cook. It's simple, but it's all we have. I used to go into the woods, but after that horrible accident, I never will.

I rub my scar subconsciously. It runs all the way from my left shoulder to my wrist. The bear that gave me this scar also killed my brother, Geo. I had been into the woods outside our district countless times, but the one time I took my brother, a bear had to attack. My father blames me for this; just another thing to add to the list of why he hates me.

I snap out of my trance at the smell of the eggs. They have started to burn. I quickly scoop them out of the small pan and dump some on a plate. I give it to Miana, and she digs in. She must be starving, because she shovels them into her mouth, even though they are still steaming.

Jarvis, my brother, walks into the kitchen then. I put some more eggs on a plate and offer them to him. He takes the plate and sits down next to Miana. I take the rest. I see Miana eyeing my plate and dump half of my eggs onto her empty plate. She smiles, a little guilty, but she eats them. She can't help herself; she's hungry. We all are.

After breakfast I go wake my parents. "Get up. It's Reaping Day." I say harshly. Normally, I wouldn't bother waking them up, but they have to come to the Reaping, or they will be arrested. As much as I detest my Dad, I can't have him arrested. He's the one who brings the money home.

My Mother gets up right away. She's quiet and obedient, so she makes a good wife; but she also makes a terrible mother. She can barely stand up for herself, let alone her kids.

My Father growls, "So go get them ready," and just rolls over. I walk out. At least I woke him up.

I get Jarvis and Miana into a somewhat clean state, then work on myself. I just throw on a light blue dress that Lizabeth gave me and pull my hair into a bun. My Mother comes over and takes Miana's hand. "You look beautiful." she says.

"Thanks." I say, uncomfortable. I don't wear dresses. The short sleeves expose the scar on my arm, and I don't want the Peacekeepers to see it. Then they'll know I've been in the woods, which is a crime.

After signing in, Jarvis goes to the fourteen-year-old boy's section. He's my only sibling eligible for the Reaping, and I worry for him, but he won't be Reaped. Not with all the other names in those balls.

"Aria." I look up and see Chase Litewyn, my boyfriend. He is no longer eligible for the Reaping, and I am relieved for him. I stretch up on my toes and give him a quick peck on the lips. He shouldn't be here. He should be with all the other people in the District, watching. "I love you." He says before leaving.

'"Love you, too." I say, turning to the Mayor. He says some speech about how lucky we are to have the Capitol, then gives the microphone to our escort. He has awkward pointy eyebrows and elfish ears. The styles in the Capitol are almost as strange as their accents. I roll my eyes at Gena Rose, my best friend. She tries to smile back, but it comes out as more of a grimace. She's nervous. We all are.

"Aria Franks." My head snaps up at the sound of my name. I swallow, and my heart starts racing. I walk up to the stage, holding my head up high. _I will not break down. I will not break down. I will not break down._

I swallow and look at the crowd, who stare up at me with solemn faces, as if to say Goodbye. The boy tribute comes up next, a skinny twelve-year-old boy. _At least it's not Jarvis. _I think.

As I shake his hand, I can't help but feel bad for him. What chance does he have? And what chance do I have?

Marck Seymour, 12, POV:

I hold the little thing in my hand, just like I do every morning. I don't know it's name, or what it's supposed to do, but I like it. It's silver and it has a little white apple on one side, and the other side reflects stuff, almost like a mirror.

I still remember the day my sister gave it to me. Just last year, after she avoided being Reaped for the last time, she gave it to me. She said it was her good luck charm. Now it will be mine, in my first Reaping.

I'm not really worried. More... nervous. Of course I'm afraid of being Reaped, but I only have a fraction of the entries of some of the older boys. I probably have the least chance of being Reaped, since my name has only been entered once. No tesserae.

I put the strange object down on my bedside table and go to the kitchen. There are four people sitting around the table, speaking in hushed tones. My parents are there, but so are two other unexpected guests.

"Kyla!" I run over to her and throw my arms around her. I haven't seen her in awhile. With me going to school and her working in the nuclear power plant, we don't have much free time.

"Hey Marck!" She laughs. It seems odd, because everyone else in the room is tense. But that's why I love Kyla so much, because she doesn't let the situation bother her.

I let go of her and sit in my place at the table. I see that she has brought her new husband, Claude, here. He's a nice guy, he's just so intimidating. I always feel a little nervous in his hulking presence.

"Marck, why don't you go get ready?" My Mom says, her voice tight. I think back to when I first entered the room. They were all talking about something, and it's clear that she doesn't want me to know.

"Why?" I ask stubbornly. I want to know what they were talking about. If Kyla gets to know, then I should, too. "What were you guys talking about earlier?"

"Marck, you heard your Mother. Go get ready." My Dad says, in the same tense voice. I get up angrily. There's no use in arguing with him.

I storm off to my room. I should get to know what they're saying. I pick up my little good luck token and stare at my reflection. Light brown hair, brown eyes, skinny face. I look just like everyone else in the District.

I pull on clean khaki pants and a white shirt. There's a small brown stain on the right shoulder. I pick at it, bored. I am so busy I don't even notice when Kyla walks in.

"Marck." I look up, surprised that she is standing there. "Are you nervous?" I shrug. Of course I'm nervous.

"Remember when I gave you this?" She asks, taking the silver thing from my hand. I nod. It was this day last year, and everyday I have wondered what it does. "Just remember that day and you'll be fine." I give her one last hug, then start for the Square for my first Reapings.

I wait in a line to sign in. I've never had to do this before. I stand on my toes to see what happens. A Peacekeeper pricks your finger and takes blood, and you sign in. The older kids don't even flinch when the fine needle pierces their skin.

I hold out my hand to the Peacekeeper. He moves swiftly, taking my blood as quickly as possible. It hurts, but only for a second. I go to my section and stand there, not really sure what I should be doing.

"Marck." I look up and see my best friend, Kurt. He's waving me over to a group of other boys. I go over there.

The boys are all talking about past Reapings, and how they would react if they were chosen. They all say they would be all macho, but I know better. Most of the people chosen break down in tears.

"Heeeellooo District Five! My name is Jentson and I am your escort! It's so great to be here!" His enthusiastic gushing is met by total silence. He doesn't let that bother him, though. He picks the girl's name with a flourish, and walks back to the podium. "Aria Franks!"

The crowd gasps, and I join them. A girls from the eighteen-year-old section walks up. Everyone knows her. She was the one who used to go into the woods, until her brother was killed in an accident with a bear. I feel bad for whoever goes into the arena with her. She is an amazing hunter.

Amazingly, she doesn't cry. But I know she will at the goodbyes. Everyone does.

"And our boy tribute is- Marck Seymour!" I gasp, astonished. _ME? _How can this be happening? I have only one entry!

A tear escapes my eye and rolls down my face. I clench the contraption in my pocket and walk up to the stage. Tears are flowing more freely now, and my face is hot. I try to stop them, but each time I try, more come out.

I shake Aria's hand. Through my tears, I see something in her eyes. Pity? I know she feels bad for me, but I also know this. She will not align with me. She will do whatever she can to get home. And she is my competition.

Aria Franks, 18, POV:

Two heavily armed Peacekeepers escort us to our rooms to ensure that we don't try to escape. Ha. Because the Capitol cares so much about us, until we have to die.

I sit in my little room, bracing myself for what's to come. As soon as the door opens and Miana and Jarvis come in, my resolve breaks.

"Miana." I say as she crawls into my lap, crying. I allow one tear to roll into her hair, then I grab Jarvis's hand. He looks at me with sad eyes. Relief courses through me as I remember that he wasn't chosen. "I love you guys." I ignore my parents, who are also in the room. My Father who never wanted me and my Mother who can't even stand up for herself.

We stay like this until the Peacekeepers come and yank us apart. My parents and Jarvis go quietly, but Miana screams and holds on to me with all of her strength, which isn't much. Soon the Peacekeepers are gone, Miana with them. I hear her screams as she is carried away, and it tortures me I have to win.

My twenty-three year old sister comes in next, accompanied by her four year old daughter, Arabella.

"Aria." Lizabeth pulls me in a tight embrace. I know she would have volunteered if she could, but she's too old.

"You have to take care of them." I tell Lizabeth. She nods, her face tight. "I keep the money in a parcel under my mattress. Don't let Dad have it." She nods again, taking every word in.

Bella walks over to me on her chubby toddler legs. "For you." She holds up a piece of blue ribbon, which she just pulled from her hair.

"Thank you." I say. I take the ribbon. Lizabeth takes it and ties it around my wrist.

"Use it as your token. To remember us, and give you strength." I pull her and Bella into one last hug, then the Peacekeepers come.

"Bye Aria. See you soon." Bella says as she waves to me, clenching and unclenching her tiny fist. Tears well up in my eyes again at the thought of losing them, but I will not be losing them. They will be losing me.

The door opens again, and Gena Rose comes in. My best friend since we were little kids. She knows everything about me, even the things I don't want anyone to know. She doesn't say anything. She just pulls me in a hug. "You have to win." She says. I don't blame her for not volunteering. I would never expect anyone to take my place in a fight to the death.

"I will." I make the promise again. There is no other option besides winning; only death. And I just won't accept that.

She kisses me once on the cheek, then leaves. I can see it was taking all her willpower not to cry, to be strong for me, but now she must go. "Goodbye." I whisper, dreading the next goodbye. I know who else is coming.

"Aria!" He sprints in and launches himself at me, almost tipping the little chair over.

"Chase." I say into his shirt. He pulls me up and presses his lips against mine. I reach up and caress his face, and he holds my hand against his cheek.

"Aria, Aria, Aria." He whispers, like he can't say my name enough. "You are so strong. So beautiful."

I look into his eyes, just like I have done a million times before. I know that after these Reapings, I would have married him, just like Lizabeth married her boyfriend. I know we would have grown up, had kids, and had a nice life. But the Games have taken my future from me. Even if I win, my life will never be the same. I will never be able to love him the way I love him now.

We stand, pressed against each other, until the Peacekeepers come and pull us apart. I fall to my knees, not able to stand. Only one thought runs through my mind as I kneel, utterly alone now. _I have to win._

Marck Seymour, 12, POV:

I lay curled on the tiny sofa, crying. My tears have made a little puddle by my head, and I can't stop sniffling.

The door opens, and my parents come in. They sit on either side of me, pulling me into an embrace. Our tears mingle as they fall.

"You were supposed to be safe." My Mom whines. I feel her shaking, pressed against me. And I was. I had only one entry, yet I was reaped. "Oh, I love you. I love you. I love you."

"Just come home." My Dad says in a thick voice. I have never seen him cry, but now his eyes are red and puffy. "I don't care. Just win."

We sit there together, clinging to each other, until the Peacekeepers come. My Mom reaches for me, and I reach back, but the door closes, leaving me reaching for nothing.

"Marck!" My Sister runs in. So much for her good luck charm. "I'm so sorry. It was supposed to bring you good luck." She takes the shiny rectangle and hurls it against the wall with a _thud_. The reflective part cracks, and there is a dent in the wall. "Why did I give it to you?"

I wrap my arms around her. We've had our fair share of arguments, like any other siblings, but she is the best big sister a person could have. "It's not your fault."

"I know. It's the Capitol's." I pull back, shocked. How could she say that? Especially _in_ the Justice Building? Especially when they are probably listening to the conversation. You _never_ say anything bad about the Capitol.

As is to prove this point, two Peacekeepers immediately come in, wielding loaded guns. "Kyla!" I shout. She looks over at the Peacekeepers and takes a deep breath.

"Just be careful, Marck." Kyla says, then she leaves the room, walking carefully, like a loaded dun is pointed at her head. Oh wait. It kind of is.

I am unable to do anything but sit there. What are they going to do to her? They can't kill her... Can they? I am so shocked, the tears have stopped following. I probably have no more tears to shed.

"Marck! What happened?" Kurt comes in, wide eyed, before the door has even closed completely.

"What do you mean?" I ask, brought back to reality by the sound of his voice.

"I saw your sister. The Peacekeepers were with her, but they were taking her the wrong way." My breath catches in my throat. "They looked angry."

I start breathing heavily. Our Peacekeepers are strict. If they heard what she said... I won't be the only Seymour child to die. "Kurt! You have to tell my parents..."

Kurt nods. "I will." I can't say anything else. I feel sick to my stomach. Not only am I in danger; so is my sister. We are moth at the Capitol's mercy now.

I don't even realize when Kurt leaves. All I am aware is the position I am in, the position my sister is in, and the position my family is in.

Welcome to the Hunger Games.

-**Author's Note (again.):** **Eh. I feel like the Reapings were bad, but I think I picked it up again at the goodbyes. Hope you enjoyed! I'm too lazy to proofread, so I hope there weren't too many mistakes...**


	7. District Six Reapings

District Six: Transportation

Valentina Morocco, 16, POV:

I wake up to the sound of singing. I prop myself up on one elbow, listening to the beautiful melody.

_"Here it's safe_

_And here it's warm_

_And here the daisies guard_

_you from every harm._

_Here your dreams are sweet_

_and tomorrow brings them true._

_Here is the place where I love you."_

I recognize the song instantly. It's something my Mother used to sing to Valkerie and I when we had nightmares. Valkerie must have had a nightmare.

Slipping on a robe, I walk over to my parent's room, where my Mother is laying with Valkerie and stroking her hair. Tears are streaming down my sister's face.

"What if I'm reaped?" she whispers, her voice thick.

"Valkerie, you aren't even eligible yet." I sit down next to them. My Father is gone; he must be cooking breakfast. He is an excellent cook, unlike my Mother.

"I know. But what if I am next year? Or you?" She looks up at me with those sad eyes. I bite my lip. It would be pretty bad if I went into the Games. I can't use weapons, I am small, I can't find food, I can't swim, and I can't build fires. Basically, the only things I would have are my looks and my speaking abilities, which wouldn't help. You can't speak someone to death, although you can bore them to death.

"There's nothing we can do about that." My Mom says. "Come on, let's go have breakfast." She takes Valkerie's hand, and I follow them to our small dining room. Our house may be little, but it is cozy.

The scents wafting from the kitchen are mouthwatering. My Dad made little dumplings filled with meat and vegetables for breakfast. I sit down and start devouring one. It's still hot and it burns my tongue, but it's so good I just can't stop myself. We only get dumplings on special occasions; birthdays, Reapings, New Year's.

I eat three more dumplings, then go upstairs to get ready for the Reaping. I need something to compliment my looks. I chose a fluffy white dress that compliments my skin and matching shoes. I pull my glossy curls back with little pins and wash my face. I look gorgeous, but I don't flaunt that like others would.

My parents, Valkerie, and I walk to the Square together. It's unusually empty in the town market, and what little people there are do their business quickly and quietly. I usually love the marketplace in the morning; the sounds, the smells, the people. But today is a somber occasion, and I don't enjoy it like I usually would.

I sign in at the Town Square. It's done up festively for the televisions, but I can still see that it's crumbling. There are cameramen perched everywhere, trying to get a good angle of the stage without revealing how ugly Justice Building is.

I go to the sixteen-year-old girls section. The girls are all trying to make small talk, but it's hard when everyone is worried like this. I go over to my group of friends, who are all unusually quiet. I assume my role as natural leader and try to lighten the mood.

"How was everyone's breakfast?" I ask teasingly. Everyone has good food on Reaping Day.

They all mumble something like, "Fine, Good." I sigh. It's not easy to be the leader.

The mayor drabbles on and on and on, saying the speech I've heard every year for sixteen years. Then our escort pops up. She's new. I wonder what happened to the old one.

"What a delight it is to be here, my first Reapings! Well, let us select our female tribute!" She starts walking, then trips in her obnoxiously high heels. She turns bright red, but she gets up and keeps walking. "Can Miss Valentina Morocco please come to the stage?"

_"What?" _I actually say this out loud, and the cameras swerve around and lock on me. I swallow hard, my breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. I walk up to the stage as calmly as I can, but my facade is cracking. This can't be happening.

The boy is called up. I don't know him. I shake his hand, and see in his eyes that he is feeling the same way I am. Scared, worried, and sick.

Folton Gray, 13, POV:

I didn't sleep a wink last night. I just lay in bed, my eyes wide open, not even bothering to pretend to sleep. I hate the Reapings. I hated last year's especially, because my brother was Reaped. Now it's my turn.

I know I'm going to be Reaped. My Father won the Hunger Games when he was thirteen. But the Capitol doesn't like him. He captured one of their craziest mutts and sicked it on the last few contestants at a feast. Those were the shortest Games in the history of the Games. Although the Capitol loved him, the Gamemakers hated him. He took their most precious creation and used it as a ticket out of the arena.

My sister was reaped four years ago, my brother was reaped last year, and I'm going to be reaped this year. I don't see how the Capitol citizens can still see it as a coincidence that every child in my family has gone to the Games, but they still see it as a tragic accident. Yeah, right.

My Father has tried training me for the last few years, but what good will it do? I'm a thirteen-year-old kid, and I'm deaf in my right ear from a tracker jacker sting I got when I was five. I'll be dead in the first ten seconds of the Games. At least Falia, my sister, made it to the third day.

I get up, unable to lie still for one more minute. I've lived a comfortable life compared to most of the kids in my district. A nice house in Victor's Village, always enough food to eat, and comfortable clothes. The only downside is that the President hates us.

I go downstairs and see my Father asleep on the floor of the living room, a knife in his hand. He always goes to sleep in his bed but wakes up in a random place around the house. Once, we found him in the bathtub, the water running and up to his neck.

I walk by quietly, so as not to wake him. You only make the mistake to wake up a man with a knife in his hand once. I was almost stabbed in the neck, but good thing I ducked.

For breakfast, I drink a glass of milk. I can't hold anything else down, and besides, I'll be dining in the Capitol tonight.

I get dressed up in a charcoal gray suit. My brother, Asher, wore a similar one to his Reapings last year. He went into the arena at age thirteen; just like my sister, just like my Father.

A few hours later, my Mother and I head to the Square. My Father is already there, because he is the mentor for the boys. He will have to watch me die. But at least I can spend my last week with him.

I stand alone in my section, eyes downcast. All of these boys will be spared another year. At least, if I can't live, my friends can.

"What a delight it is to be here, my first Reapings!" She trips and falls on her way to the Reaping Ball, but she gets up, and continues with the Reapings. "Can Miss Valentina Morocco please come to the stage?"

_"What?" _The sound comes out of the condemned herself. She walks up to the stage, calmly, but I can see her hands shaking slightly.

"And now-drum roll please. Will Mister Colton Fray please come up to the stage?" I freeze in my tracks, and my heart actually skips a beat. _That's not me! _I actually start to smile, my heart beating hard with relief, when the next words come tumbling out. "Wait! I read it wrong! Will Mister _Folton Gray _come to the stage?" The brief feeling of happiness vanishes, replaced with dread.

I walk up to the stage, sick to my stomach. I glance at our escort, with her long glittery lashes and glitter-lined eyes. Something tells me she won't be an escort much longer.

I shake hands with Valentina. Up close, she really is beautiful. Maybe we'll be partners in the arena. I sure hope so, because if there's one thing I know, it's that I won't be able to win alone, or at all, really.

Valentina Morocco, 16, POV:

I know now who the boy is. He is one of our previous victor's children. All of the Gray kids have been reaped, and all of them have died. I suppose this time around it won't be much different.

I have heard a few things about Mr. Gray. How he turned to morphing when his first two children died. I know what his future will be. A yellow-skinned bag of bones. The girl's mentor is also becoming one.

The door opens, and my parents come in. They are crying. We are a family of optimists; but I have about a four percent chance of winning. Optimism can only take you so far.

My Mother's lips are trembling, and I realize she is singing. It's the same song she sung to my sister this morning. Her voice gets louder, and she collapses next to me, singing. I listen to the whole song, and tears of my own start falling. My Father hugs me, and I can still smell the dumplings on him.

"Valentina, use your looks." He says, looking into my chocolate eyes. "You can get sponsors. And use your voice to win over the crowd. I've seen Victors who have won with less." I nod, but he must know I have no chance of winning.

The Peacekeepers come, and I watch them go. I will probably never see them again. My sister comes in then, crying.

"Valentina! I knew you would be reaped! I had a dream about it!" She sobs into my neck

"What?" I ask, more out of patience than of curiosity.

"You were reaped in my dream. Oh, Valentina! Promise you'll win!" I look into her dull brown eyes. She was never as beautiful as me, but she is still my best friend.

"I can't lie to you. I will try, but I-" I can't say the next words. It's too painful to say them out loud, even though I know they are true. "I love you." I say, and she leaves the room.

A group of friends comes in next. We cry together, and they talk about their favorite memories. But I don't respond. I don't even listen, really. I just spend my last moments in District Six with my family, sitting around an old table, eating dumplings.

Folton Gray, 13, POV:

I sit in my compartment, alone, sniffling. I had seen both of my siblings reaped; but I had never personally known the feeling. It sucks. It's la mixture of knowing you're going to die, hoping you don't die, missing your family, and nervous to see the other tributes. I hate it.

My Mom comes in first. She strokes my hair, but doesn't say anything. I look into her eyes. They are empty, deadened. I've never seen this look in her eyes, and it scares me. It's like she's considering the easiest way to kill herself.

"Mommy?" I ask, touching her face. She looks at me with her dead eyes.

"Yes, baby?" she says in a monotone.

"I love you." I press my cheek to hers,

"I love you, too." she says it in the same cold voice. I see something else in her eyes, a determination.

"You can't kill yourself." I whisper softly.

She snaps out of her trance, her eyes suddenly filled with emotion. "Why not, Folton?" she says angrily. "First Falia, then Frank, now you? I can't live like this?" she starts going into hysterics, crying and knocking things over. A group of Peacekeepers comes in then and jab a needle into her arm, sedating her. They take her out calmly, as if they do this sort of thing a lot.

My friends come in next. My Father won't be coming, because he's my mentor. I wonder if he knows what Mom plans to do.

"Hey, Folton." Dustin says weakly. I told them not to volunteer for me, because I'd just be reaped again the next year anyway.

"Hey." I say. I'm still in shock from my Mother's visit. There's really nothing else to say, so we sit around awkwardly until the Peacekeepers take them away. I'll miss them, just like I'll miss all of District Six.

I leave the room, searching for my Father. He has to be here. He's a mentor. I spot him by the Peacekeepers who took my Mother away. His face is in his hands.

"Dad?" I touch the back of his hands lightly. He looks up, and his eyes are red.

"I'm so sorry, son." He says, pulling me into a hug. I stay with him. I'm grateful that I get to be with him up to the last moment. Most tributes don't have that.

I stay there, against his chest, until it is time to go onto the trains. I see Valentina; her eyes are red and puffy. I offer her a weak smile that she tries to return, but it looks more like a grimace. We are off to the Capitol, to meet a bunch of other tributes who want our blood.


	8. District Seven Reapings

District Seven: Lumber

Basil Pierce, 14, POV:

I duck out the door and walk briskly for the town jeweler's place. I have something to sell, and I said I'd be there promptly at seven in the morning.

The walk is short and quiet. Everyone is sleeping in today because there is no school and no work. I can't help but wonder who it will be that goes into the arena. It could very well be me. Ever since our Peacekeeper father died, we have slowly been slipping into poverty. The only thing that prevents us from starving is the jewelry and pottery that I make and sell to the richer people in the district.

I arrive at the Jewelry Store and look through the front window at all the precious gems I will never be able to afford. I wonder what it would be like to wear something so rich and fine. I snap out of it and head to the back door, knocking four times, the signal that I'm here. If people knew that their jewelry was made by a poor girl, they wouldn't buy it.

The jeweler's son, Pip, opens the door. He's fifteen and, like every time I see him, my heart skips a beat when I look into those big, gorgeous blue eyes. "Um, is Mrs. Curry home?" I ask politely, He knows about our little "arrangement."

As always, I feel a little guilty when I see him. After all, my sister survived that terrible attack and his brother didn't.

He nods and turns away, leaving the door open and beckoning for me to come in. I step through, lifting my hood and letting it fall. "Mom? Basil's here to see you."

Mrs. Curry comes over. I hand her the necklace I made, and she takes it over to a magnifying glass, appraising it. It is a very fine piece of jewelry; I would expect it to sell for at least ten coins. I notice Pip staring at me, and try to calm my pulse.

"I'll give you eleven coins." Mrs. Curry says, going to get the money. Even better. She has always been a little generous with the amount of money she gives me, because she knows we are starving.

I take the money and hurry out the door before someone sees me. I pull my hood back up and hurry home.

When I go in the kitchen, I see my sister, Twila, sitting there. She is as silent as ever, sitting there, staring at nothing. She is not an avox; she is only quiet because it's the best way for her to cope. When she was little and a rabid dog killed her best friend, Hayden, she changed.

I put the money away in a jar by the sink. I'll go to the market tomorrow, since no shops are open this early on Reaping day. My little brother, Clovis, comes in then.

"Basil. I made you a bracelet." He hands me a braided leather bracelet made of deer hide. Nothing that could be sold for money, but it is worth a thousand times more to me.

"Thank you." I say, slipping it over my thin wrist. "Come on," I say to both of them, "Time to get ready for the Reaping." Clovis isn't eligible for the Reapings yet, since he is only seven, but Twila, being thirteen, is.

My Mother takes the two of them and I go to my room to get ready. I see that my Mother has laid out the faded lime green dress with pink buttons that she wore to her first few Reapings. I wore it for the past two years; I have a feeling this will be my last time wearing it. It's already too small.

After brushing my wavy black hair into a somewhat neat order, I head out to the Square with my family. Clovis, being only seven, doesn't really understand the Hunger Games. He is only just beginning to learn about it in school. My Mother doesn't let him watch the Games past the interviews, because she thinks it will scar him like Twila has been scarred.

I sign in, then help Twila to her section. She drifts towards her group of friends, and I go over to my section. I find my best friend, Shea. She has auburn and blues eyes. She is also thin, like me. She and I often discuss what we would do if we ran the country, but it's wishful thinking. The government will never be overthrown. My eyes scan the crowd, and I see Pip. He's hugging another girl. A spark of jealousy ignites within me, but it's irrational. Pip was never mine,

I tune out the mayor's speech and try to focus on what I will buy with my money. Food, of course, but Clovis really needs a new pair of shoes, or I could buy a bar of soap...

"And now for our female tribute!" Our creepy escort, Minx Twain, says. He has chalky white skin and waist-length green hair, to represent trees and paper, I guess. Everyone rolls their eyes as he puts his hand in the boys' ball. "Pip Curry! What an odd name for a girl."

I suck in a breath as Pip Curry walks up to the stage. "What? NO!" A few girls call out, and I roll my eyes. They don't know him; they just want him to be their boyfriend because he's attractive.

"Oh. And _now _for our female tribute." Our escort laughs nervously. He's an idiot. "Twila Pierce." I freeze. _Did he just say Twila Pierce? _

That's when I see her, being guided to the stage by a friend. She moves in a trance, almost like she doesn't know what's happening. When she sees our escort standing there, smiling at her, she completely loses it. She falls to the floor of the stage, screaming. I don't even make a conscious decision to run up there, but suddenly I am there. I see the Peacekeepers coming to take her away, and I know what I have to do.

"I volunteer." They're still coming, so I scream it louder. "I VOLUNTEER!" The muttering crowd falls silent at my cry. I stand up and walk to the stage, next to Pip. Twila's friend takes her back to their section.

"Wonderful!" Minx says, placing a hand on each of our shoulders. "I give you... Our District Seven tributes!" The crowd doesn't clap, or even move, really. I am thankful, at least, for that. I glance over at Pip, who has a look of concentration on his face. No matter what I may have felt for him earlier, I have to put those feelings aside. I have to get home, and in order to do that, he has to die.

Pip Curry, 15, POV:

I sit at the table, eating breakfast with my parents. Breakfast is always a quiet affair. Our family never really feels the need to fill every silence with trivial chatter. Ever since Hayden was killed by a rabid dog, everything feels more somber.

"Duty calls." My Father gets up and ruffles my brown hair, mixed in with blonde highlights. He has an obsession with ruffling my hair, and he does it every morning before he leaves for work. "I'll see you at the Reapings, Pip." My Father, being an electrician, is one of the only people that has to work today. He has been going to the Town Square all week, setting things up for today.

"Bye Dad." I finish off my ham and eggs, then go wait by the door like my Mother told me to. She said to wait for the signal, check that the coast was clear, and open it up for Basil. She's only fourteen years old, but she is 5'10'' and very mature for her age. She also doesn't fall all over me, like the other girls in school, and she's the one person I actually _want _to notice me. But I doubt she does.

_Knock-knock, knock-knock. _That's Basil. I open the door and there she is, waiting expectantly. I allow myself to admire her green eyes for one second, then I beckon for her to come in. I turn, then call out, "Mom? Basil's here to see you."

I always feel a strange connection to Basil, since my brother died in the attack that made her sister mad.

My Mom comes over and takes the small wrapped parcel. She brings it to her table and unwraps it gently. She observes it through her magnifying glass carefully. I recognize the gem instantly; it's an emerald. Where did someone like Basil get an emerald? I watch her carefully. _Did she steal it? _She looks up at me then, almost like she read my mind. I look away quickly.

"I'll give you eleven coins." My Mom says, keeping the parcel and counting out the money for Basil. She takes the money and leaves, pulling her hood up. I watch her until she turns the corner, then shut the door.

"She's good at what she does." My Mom says, placing the necklace in a velvet box in the window. She turns to look at me then. I'm uncomfortable with the way she looks at me, like she knows something I don't.

"I know." I say. I don't know what else to do, so I go upstairs to my room to get ready. Like all of the other merchants, we live above our shop.

I put on a light blue dress shirt, black pants, and shiny black shoes. My Father says you should always look your best, so I have a lot of fancy clothes. Personally, I would rather wear a simple shirt and pants, but I like to make my parents proud.

I wet a comb and comb my hair back. The comb pulls through my hair very easily and it looks very professional. Before I go, I tuck the little silver locket under my shirt. I always wear it. It was one of the little trinkets Basil repaired, but she added a few extra jewels. When I open it, there is a picture of my family, including Hayden. On the other side is a picture of Piper, my best friend.

My Mother and I head out to the Town Square together. We separate and sign in; me with the other children, her with the adults. The small needle sends a flash of pain through my finger, and the blood starts pouring out. "Sorry. It must be a faulty needle." I suck on my index finger as I go to my section. _Even the Capitol's systems can be flawed..._

"Hey, Pippy." I look up as Piper comes over, smiling, like always.

"Hey Pip-er." I say, pulling her into a hug. We are best friends; nothing else. I have always felt like she is my sister, and she always says I am the brother she never wanted.

"Yes, it's me, Pip-er the klutz." Piper always makes fun of herself for other people's benefit. That's why it's so nice to be around her. "Hey, what happened to your finger?" She asks. Another thing about Piper: she'll ask you _anything_, no matter how personal or embarrassing.

I just shake my head as the mayor walks up to the stage, and Piper slips back to her section. He's been our mayor for twenty years now. I wonder if it ever gets tiring to say the same thing year after year, to have to watch two more kids get picked for the Hunger Games.

After our mayor drones on, our escort, Minx Twain, comes up. He's peppy and irritating, just like all of the other escorts. "Heeellllooooo District Seven!" He says energetically. When no one responds, he moves on. "And now for our female tribute!" He's wearing a brown suit, and mixed with his vivid green hair, he could be a tree. I roll my eyes along with everyone else when he dips his hand into the boys' Reaping Ball. "Pip Curry! What an odd name for a girl."

I freeze for a second, my mind doubting what my ears just heard. _How could it be me? My name's only been entered four times, for crying out loud!_

I walk up to the stage, and I hear a few girls cry out, "What? NO!" I would have rolled my eyes if I hadn't been so scared.

"Oh. And _now_ for our female tribute." He tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a squeak. "Twila Pierce." I blink in shock at the name. Pierce. Basil Pierce. They must be related.

A shaky girl comes up from the thirteen-year-old section, being supported by a friend. Like me, the whole thing doesn't seem to hit her until she sees Minx. She falls to the floor of the stage, screaming, "NOOOOOOOOOOO!" One long, never ending shriek of agony.

Then she comes up. Basil runs to the stage, the crowd parting for her. She seems to fly up the stairs, and in the next instant, she is there, right next to me, looking beautiful in a green dress that goes with her eyes. She looks up as the Peacekeepers come.

"I volunteer," she says in a choked whisper. Then, louder, she screams it: "I VOLUNTEER!" The muttering crowd falls silent when they hear Basil scream. The Peacekeepers stop, then they help Basil up and stand her next to me. The friend brings Twila into the crowd.

I take a deep breath and focus on concentrating, but it's hard. The one girl I like happens to be the one going to the arena with me, and only one of us can come out alive.

Basil Pierce, 14, POV:

I follow the Peacekeepers into the Justice building. As we are led away, I accidentally bump shoulders with him. I look up and see him looking down at me, and he offers me a smile. I scowl at him. I'm not falling for his "sweet boy" trick. I saw him hugging that girl, and the look of concentration on his face. I know he's just trying to get me to trust him so he can kill me,

In my compartment, I start to mentally prepare myself for these goodbyes. This is going to be hard. Twila, who I volunteered for and who is out of her mind. Clovis, who doesn't yet know the nature of these games. My Mother, who will now be left alone to take care of the two children.

My Mother and two siblings come in first. My Mom has tears streaming down her face, and Twila is silent, like always. Clovis is looking around with curious eyes. He has never seen such a rich place.

"Are you going to be on TV?" he asks excitedly. "Like all those other kids?"

"Yes, I am going to be on TV." I say, pulling him into my lap and kissing his head.

"Cool! Can I come?" he asks, his eyes wide and sincere. "I want to come too!"

"No, you don't. Don't ever say that." I say to him, and tears threaten to spill over.

"Will you be home soon?" he asks. I nod.

"Of course I will. I'm just going on a little trip." I'm lying, of course. I probably won't make it back, is what I don't tell him. But I have to give them hope. If you don't have hope, you have nothing.

My Mother comes over and hugs me. "You are so brave." she whispers in my ear. I feel wetness on my cheeks, but not from my eyes. She pulls back and presses her lips to my forehead. "I love you." I give one last hug to Twila, who I did all of this for. I need to make it home. Without me, they will die.

They walk out. My heart feels sore, and my body aches where Clovis was sitting, where I was hugging Twila and my Mother. I banish these thoughts from my mind and try to focus on the weeks ahead of me.

Shea comes in next. Her eyes are sad, but she isn't crying, thankfully. Like me, she's strong. "You have to make it out, Basil. You can. You're fast, and you can trick people into thinking you're weak." she says earnestly.

"I _am_ weak." It's true. I'm stick thin, and I don't know how to use any weapons but an axe, and I can't even use that well. But I am good at learning to adapt, and I'm very elusive. "No one will want to sponsor me. They'll all want the careers."

"But you have something the Careers don't. Substance. Something to fight for, a reason to get home." Shea looks me in the eyes. "You looked strong when you volunteered. People will like that, and they'll pay attention to you. You just need to capture them in your interview, and you're all set."

"I'll try." I say doubtfully. I try to find hope in her words, but I can't help but think of the Careers and how they can't wait to kill me. She leaves, and I run my hand over the smooth deer hide bracelet. The only thing to remind me of home.

Pip Curry, 15, POV:

I can't help but marvel at how strong Basil is. Most fourteen-year-old girls would break down in tears, but she barely even blinked. I wonder if she will consider being my ally. As we separate, I accidentally bump her shoulder. I turn, smiling, but she just scowls at me. _What did I ever do to her to make her hate me? _

The inside of the Justice Building is nice. It's the grandest building in all of District Seven, since Capitol people sometimes meet here. The goodbye rooms are just as posh. I run my hands over the smooth velvet chairs. The feel reminds me of my Mom's jewelry shop, and the little velvet cases the pieces sit in. I t calms me, and I take a deep breath, waiting for the doors to open.

My parents come in first. My Mom is wearing a nice blue dress with matching jewelry. She collapses beside me. "My only son, my baby." She strokes my hair, just like she used to do when I was younger and I had a nightmare. It feels good.

"I can't believe I set up the stage that reaped my son." My Father looks shocked. His blue eyes, usually twinkling in the light, now look dead and empty.

"It's not your fault, Dad." I say, grabbing his hand.

"I can't lose two children." He replies, clutching at my hand with surprising strength.

"You won't, Dad. I promise." He nods and kneels beside my Mother, who is now crying.

I close my eyes and commit this moment to memory: my last time seeing my parents. This image, along with my locket, will give me the strength I need for the next few weeks.

All too soon, the Peacekeepers come and take my parents away. Piper comes in next. She is quiet and somber, so unlike her usual self.

"Pip." She runs to me and hugs me, squeezing me tight. She pulls back and collapses in the chair across from me, leaning forward.

"What, Piper?" I say, not using the silly nickname she gave herself when she found out how similar our names were.

"You're going into the arena." I nod. That much is obvious. "I _know _you can win this thing. You are manipulative. Manipulation is deadly. Use it to get the audience to like you, and take it from there."

Getting sponsors is the key. One cracker can make the difference between starvation and surviving. Sponsors can make all the difference.

"Give them something to root for. Do whatever you have to, as long as you come home." Piper gets up and pulls me into one last hug. "I'll be waiting for you." She walks out before the Peacekeepers take her away. Another thing about Piper; she always does things on her own terms. I sit there, thinking about Piper, and how she's waiting for me. Then I think about Basil, sitting in the room next door. For some reason that I can't name, the two don't coincide in my mind.


	9. District Eight Reapings

District Eight: Textiles

Kiara Siebel, 17, POV:

I sit against a low brick wall by the fence, staring out at the greenery. I would love to be out there, singing with the Mockingjays and sitting in the shade. A bead of sweat trickles down my neck and I think longingly of my long summer days by the stream, wading in the clear water.

I miss the woods. They were my sanction in this drab world. A place where I could escape the sameness of the factories and enjoy the peace of the woods. I always loved the colors. In District Eight, everything seems to be a different shade of gray or tan, and it's boring.

"Daydreaming about the woods, Kiara?" Lacey asks, sliding next to me. Madi sits down on my other side. They are my best friends, and they are twins. I am the only one in District Eight who can tell them apart, except perhaps their parents.

"Of course," I stare longingly at the trees, tantalizingly close. This "new and improved" fence is the only thing that is keeping me away from them. They tore down the old ruined fence and put up a more sturdy one. This has electricity running through it twenty-four seven, to prevent people like me from going into the wilderness. The lack of color in this district can drive people mad.

"I wonder what they're like," Madi looks out at them with curiosity in her eyes. The twins have never been into the woods. They are more careful about their actions, unlike me.

"They're wonderful. You can sit in the shade, wade in the pools, eat all the fresh berries you want, sing with the Mockingjays..." I trail off when they look at me with a strange expression. They don't know what Mockingjays are, so they can't possibly know what I'm talking about.

I sigh and stand up, brushing off my pants. "Maybe one day we'll be able to go out there again." They stand up too, and we head back to the little shacks that we live in. My house is just like everyone else's in the district; small, shabby, and cheap.

Inside, I find my younger brother, Kieran, sitting at our scratched-up wooden table. He is eating a standard meal of mushy grain, hot and steaming. The cereal is good and hearty. It may not taste the best, but it will keep you going.

"Hey, Kieran," I ruffle his hair and sit next to him. My mother hands me a bowl of the oatmeal, and I dig in. I didn't realize how long I was gone, but now it must be at least one. The Reapings will be in about an hour.

I head to the single bedroom in the house and pull out the only dress I own. It's gray and smudged with dirt, but it's the nicest thing I own. I pull it over my head and pull my long brown hair into a ponytail, too tired to do anything fancy. I can't wait for the Reapings to be over. I hate watching the children get taken away, often crying and thrashing. District Eight hasn't had a victor since Woof, and he won ten years back. He's hard of hearing from the area, and he can't be a great mentor. I feel bad for whoever is his tribute this year.

I head out to the Square with my parents and Kieran. He looks nervous, but almost everyone does. It's his first Reaping, and he already has five slips in. I don't let it bother me, though; almost everyone in District Eight has to take tesserae.

I find Lacey and Madi in the seventeen-year-old section. They are dressed in clothes similar to me; nothing fancy. We nod at each other, but nothing else. I can tell they are just as nervous as I am.

The mayor tells his speech about how the Games came to be, and I wait patiently along with the rest of the District. He reads the list of names, which isn't very long. We have managed to scrape up our fair share of victors, though.

Our escort bounces to the stage. He has spiky black hair and blood-red lips. I have even heard rumors that he has fangs on his lips, after some sort of mythical creature. I shudder as he talks in a strange voice, even by Capitol standards. He adds an odds hiss at the letter _s _and does an odd tongue roll when he says the letter _r_.

"Good Afternoon. We must now select one young man and woman to represent District Eight in the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games. Ladies first." He plucks a name out of the bowl, and I, along with everyone else, catch my breath. I'm desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not Lacey, that it's not Madi... "Kiara Siebel."

I suck in a gasp through clenched teeth. _Did he just say my name? _I'm confused. _This cannot be happening._

People have started mumbling to themselves, so I quickly wipe my face clean of emotion and walk up to the stage. I look out at the crowd, my face betraying none of my confusion.

Our escort reaps a seventeen-year-old boy. I know him. He is in my class, but I've never spoken to him personally. I do know he is on our small Bat Ball team, a game played where you hit a ball with a bat and run around a field. I find it pointless, but now that I think about it, this could give him an edge in the arena.

And he is my competition.

Corduroy "Roy" Davis, 17, POV:

I throw the small leather ball at the low brick wall. It hits it with a sharp _Thwak! _and rolls back to me. I stoop and pick it up, then throw back, this time with more force. It hits the wall and comes sailing back to me, faster than I expected. I almost miss the ball, but I dive and I catch it. My Mom will be mad at me for ruining these pants, but oh well.

I'm on the small Bat Ball team at school. Most people think it's pointless, since it won't help you in life. But it's something to look forward to besides mindless hours working in the drab factories.

I start jogging home. I need to get ready for the Reapings. I live in one of the small tenements closer to the factories. It's not any better than the little shacks closer to the fence, but it's closer. It always smells of smoke here, and you can always see the smothering black clouds being belched into the sky. Today, however, it is strangely clear. No one has work on the Reapings.

"Hey, Roy. How was practice?" My Father asks me when I get home. I slide my shoes off so as not to track in dirt, but there really isn't any point. The little apartment is filthy, as the landlord doesn't bother to have anyone clean it.

"Good. I got a couple of good throws in, but I had to get home for... you know."

My father scowls, "The Reapings." He hates the Capitol more than anyone I know. I guess he is where I get my burning hatred of the Capitol and their sadistic games from. "Good luck son." He claps his hand around my shoulder. I'm surprised-he usually doesn't touch people.

I pull on a white button-down and pants that aren't dirty. It's not amazing, but no one in District Eight really has anything fancy unless you're a merchant. My hand automatically goes to my wrist and I make sure my bracelet's still there. Of course it is. Rayon gave it to me when we first started going out, and I haven't taken it off since. I really hope she isn't reaped. She may be The One.

I walk back downstairs and see my sister, Polly-Ester, hugging my mother. It's her second reaping. I really hope it isn't her, either. I love her to death, and she is the sweetest thing. My mother is stroking her hair and murmuring soothing things to her. Polly sees me and comes over, taking my hand. She isn't crying, but her eyes show worry. "What if it's you, Roy?" she asks, clutching my fingers.

"I- It won't," she's worried for _me_. And here I am, worrying about Bat Ball and my girlfriend. Nice.

We walk to the Square. I see a whole bunch of other boys dressed like me- nothing fancy. Everyone has a nervous expression on their faces; foreheads wrinkled, eyes downcast. I know why. Everyone has multiple entries for tesserae to help feed our families. In fact, I have thirty entries. Six because I have to, and the other twenty-four are the yearly entries I take for the measly supply of grain and oil.

Rayon comes over then. She is dressed up for the occasion, and she looks beautiful. I pull her into an embrace. Our lips touch. We kiss for a few seconds, but an impatient throat-clearing behind us makes us stop.

I turn and see my best friend, Loom Fredricks, standing behind us, looking annoyed. "There are other people here, you know,"

"Hey, Loom," I say without letting go of Rayon. "And yes, there are other people here. That's sort of the point of today." Rayon actually cracks a smile, and it makes her blue eyes twinkle.

"You know what I mean," He grumbles, but we ignore him. I stare into her eyes for a moment, then kiss her on the cheek. She blushes where my lips touched her, then goes to her section. I make sure she gets there, then turn back to Loom, who is glaring at me.

"What?" I ask innocently. He just shakes his head and looks towards the stage.

Our Mayor says the speech about the Dark Days and how we are lucky to have the Capitol, (yeah, right.) then steps back and allows our escort to come up. He's creepy-looking, with his sickly pale skin and a long cape. He talks in a strange guttural tone, not quite the Capitol accent. I hear from people that he is supposed to be a mythical creature, but I just don't get it.

"Good afternoon. We must now select one young man and woman to represent District Eight in the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games. Ladies first." He heads for the ball with an odd swishing of his cape and plucks a name. "Kiara Siebel."

I watch as a seventeen-year-old girl takes the stage. No one volunteers. I know her from school, but I've never actually talked to her. I know Rayon doesn't particularly like her, so I've just never taken notice of her. Until now.

"And our male tribute is- Corduroy Davis." I freeze for a second before heading up to the stage. I walk by Rayon's section and see her, right by the edge, looking panic-stricken. I stop and kiss her on the cheek lightly, then head up to the stage. "I'll bet that was your girlfriend!" The escort says in his awkward voice. It takes everything I have not to punch him in the face.

As I look out at the crowd, I see Loom, who looks torn. Probably deciding whether to volunteer or not. The braver part of me tells him not to volunteer, but the weaker, (and larger) part of me wishes he will. He doesn't, though, and I am left staring out at the people of District Eight, wondering if I will ever see them again.

Kiara Siebel, 17, POV:

As we head into the Justice Building, I watch Roy out of the corner of my eye. Like me, he has managed to keep his face devoid of emotion. He also has this grim determination in his eyes to get home. It must have something to do with the girl her kissed on his way up to the stage. I am instantly wary of him.

In the room I am sent to, I find a plush velvet couch that I immediately collapse on. The panic is just beginning to set in, and I need to calm down before it overwhelms me.

I look up as my parents and little brother come in. Kieran's eyes are wide and his chin is trembling. I can see it's taking everything her has not to break down and cry right then and there. I pat the spot next to me, and he sits there, wrapping his arm around me. I place my cheek on top of his head and sit there for a moment, just feeling his there in my arms. My parents kneel beside us. My mother is crying hysterically, but my father still has his composure.

"You know the woods, Kiara. You have an advantage that most District Eight tributes didn't have. Use it." My father is looking directly into my eyes. I am alarmed by his intensity, but I nod anyway. "You also have your knowledge. Another advantage."

This is true. All children, from the age of eleven, are forced to work long hours in the factory after school. The hours spent learning are cut in half, and instead we must work for a small amount of money. I am lucky, because my mother is a teacher in the small school. I can learn late at night, by candlelight. We've even been over Hunger Games strategies in certain situations.

"I know, Dad," I say, "I love you guys." We all hug for a few moments, then the Peacekeepers come, as quiet and strong as ever. My father and brother go immediately, but my mother struggles, screaming and trying to reach me. They shove a needle into her arm and she stops struggling immediately, and she is carried out of the room.

Two familiar faces come in now, almost exactly alike except for the small mole on Madi's nose.

"Oh my goodness, what happened?" Lacey asks, the shock still clear on her face. They didn't volunteer, but I don't blame them. I would never ask somebody to take my place in the Hunger Games, and I wouldn't have volunteered for them. Cruel, but true.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. I still can't believe that I am in the Hunger Games. It feels more like I am drifting in a dream.

"You can win," Madi sits beside me, where Kieran was moments before. "You can use a dagger, and you're fast, and-"

"I know," I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. Then, in a softer voice, I say, "My father was just here." Madi nods, her lips tight. I feel bad. I've just hurt one of my best friend's feelings.

"I'll miss you. You have to come home," Lacey bites her lip, and a tear escapes her eye. I choke a little, but I refuse to cry.

"I will. And when you see me on the screen, just know I'll be thinking of you guys." Lacey sobs and runs over, giving me a hug so tight I can't breathe. Then the Peacekeepers come and they leave. I am left alone, trying to make the most of my final moments in District Eight. Now easy, considering I am in an unfamiliar place, alone, and about to be sent into the Hunger Games.

Corduroy "Roy" Davis, 17, POV:

_I need to come home. I will come home. I need to come home. _These thoughts run through my mind over and over. I feel a sense of determination growing within me. I _will_ come home. My family will have a nice house in Victor's Village, Polly-Ester will never have to take tesserae, and I will come home to Rayon.

I sit and wait for my family to come in the Justice Building. I know they will come. I'm just dreading when they will leave.

Sure enough, the first visitors are my parents and Polly. My Father has his ever-present scowl on his face, and my Mother is gliding along as if in a trance. Her eyes are glazed over, and I'm alarmed. I've never seen her like this.

"I can't believe it," my father says, pacing the room. He narrows his eyes at a potted plant in the corner of the room, but doesn't say anything else. I want to ask him what he's doing, but he turns to me and places a finger to his lips. I instantly understand. There is a listening device, and possibly a camera, located inside the plant. I nod slightly, letting him know I understand. My mother and sister don't even notice.

"You know how to throw and swing a bat. Good for up close and far away. You have an advantage," he says to make up for the pause.

"I knew it would be you," Polly says, tears falling down her little face.

"Shhh," I murmur, pulling her into a hug and feeling her warmth spread through my arms. I hadn't realized how cold I was.

We huddle together for a few moments, then the Peacekeepers come. I swallow the lump in my throat. I know who's coming in next.

I'm surprised when it's not Rayon, but Loom, who enters next. I feel a second of bitter disappointment, then I'm glad that he's here.

"I'm sorry I didn't volunteer," are the first words out of his mouth. He looks guilty. I tell him that it's not his fault I got reaped, that he didn't need to volunteer. I try to tell myself that he shouldn't have volunteered, but I can't help but feel a little angry that he didn't.

"Listen, you have to take care of Rayon. Just so I know she's safe," I tell him. He looks at me, a little startled. Clearly he thought this would be the last thing on my mind.

"But she's your-" he starts.

"I know. I just... I need to know someone will take care of her in case... in case I don't come home." He just looks at me. After a few moments, he nods. I trust him more than I trust anybody. I know he will take care of her if I die, possibly merry her. This is my intention. I need to at least know someone good will take care of her if I die.

Loom leaves the room and Rayon, the girl we were just speaking about comes in. I have been going out with her since I was eleven. We probably would've gotten married, too, if the Games hadn't reaped me.

She rushes over to me, tears streaming down her face. Her brown hair flies out behind her like a cape. "Roy!" She slams into me. We embrace, and I pull her lips to mine. We kiss passionately for a few moments, and I feel the taste of her salty tears on my lips. I would have loved to be with her like this, except this could be the last time I see her.

"Listen to me. Take care of yourself. If I don't come home-"

She cuts me off, "You have to! You're my whole life." Her eyes are very light now, like the blue is being drained from them as she cries.

"But if I don't, you need go on." She looks at me with her sad pale eyes and nods. She touches my cheek, and I grab her hand, keeping it there. She closes her eyes.

That's when the Peacekeepers come in.

She presses her lips once more to mine, with more urgency. I respond to this, my arms wrapping around her. The Peacekeepers pull her away, and I get one last brush with her hand. She screams my name, "CORDU-" And the door slams. She is gone from me, forever. I know I probably won't see her again, which is why I told Loom to take care of her. I hope on my life that he does.

Which isn't very long now anyway.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I haven't updated recently, you know how it is. Hopefully I can get District Nine up tomorrow, but probably not until Thursday. If you want you can check out my other story, The Prim Games, while you wait. Or you can vote on my poll. Whatever you need to do to pass the time. Sayonara for now.**


	10. District Nine Reapings

District Nine: Grain

Taffy Sweedums, 16, POV:

"Thank you sir and have a nice day," I smile and hand the man his change. He eyes it suspiciously and counts it, making sure it's the right amount.

"Sure. Whatever," He says, walking out of the store with his bag of taffy, still looking at me like I poisoned it or something. Rude. He didn't even wish me luck today, unlike so many of our other customers. I take off my apron and put it under the counter, but not before I pop a peppermint into my mouth.

"Taffy, what are you doing?" my twenty-year-old sister, Lolli, asks, looking at my hand, still cupped over my mouth from when I ate the candy. She looks at the buldge with disgust.

"Nothing," I say. My voice sounds muffled, from my hand and the peppermint, which is pressed against my cheek.

"Whatever. You just go get ready for the Reapings. You need it," Lolli says. My face turns red, and I hurry out of the room. It's not fair. Lolli is so pretty and thin, and I'm pudgy and unattractive.

I run upstairs as fast as I can, my footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs. Like all of the other shopkeepers, we live over our business.

On my way up the stairs, I bang into my nineteen-year-old brother, Licorich. The tray of gumballs he was holding topples over, and all of the gumballs roll down the stairs, making loud banging sounds as they fall.

"Taffy!" Licorich says, frantically stooping down and picking up the gumballs.

"I'm sorry! Here, let me help!" I bend down to help him, but I only end up banging my head into his.

"Ow!" Licorich says, jerking up and rubbing his head. He throws out a hand when I go to pick up the tray, "Wait!" he pants, "I think you've helped enough."

I take the hint and hurry up the stairs, my face an even darker shade of red.

"What was that racket?" my father asks, looking up from the newspaper.

"I-I ran into Licorich and made him drop the gumballs." I hand my head in shame. I'm always doing something klutzy like this, and it's the only time my Father ever notices me.

"Oh my goodness, Taffy! What are we going to do with you?" He rubs his hands over his shiny bald head. I just run into my room and slam the door.

Most people are jealous of me; my pudginess shows that I have enough to eat, I have a nice house, and I never had to take tesserae. But the truth is, my life is going pretty bad. I have frizzy hair, pale skin, and no friends. I'm a klutz, and my family hardly notices me unless I do something wrong. My Dad is always working and teaching Licorich how to run the shop for when he takes over. My Mom is trying to find someone respectable to marry to perfect Lolli. I'm just an extra pair of hands to work in the shop, ones that don't have to be paid.

I pull on a candy-apple colored shirt and pull my hair back in a matching red hair ribbon. I also pull on a caramel-colored skirt, and I'm all set. They aren't gorgeous like all of Lolli's clothes; they're practical.

I head out to the Square with my family. They all talk about the town gossip, but I just trail behind, not speaking. I'm the only Sweedums child still eligible for the Reapings, and I have a total of five entries.

I sign in at the Square. "Arm," the Peacekeeper says gruffly, not even looking at me.

"Here you go, sir," I say politely, holding out my arm. I always have very good manners.

He looks up at me, one eyebrow raised, like I'm crazy. I bet no one has talked to him yet. He just shakes his head and draws the blood sample. "Next," he says when I'm done signing in.

"It was nice talking with you, sir," I say, smiling and going over to my section. The girls all make a wide circle around me, like they don't want to get too close. They think I'm too sweet; _annoyingly _sweet. To me, this is just another place I don't quite fit in.

Our elderly mayor says her speech, and I am the only one who applauds lightly at the end. Everyone looks at me strangely, but I don't let it bother me. It's a miracle that she didn't forget the words mid-way through. I know I would.

Our escort, a lady with blue hair and tattoos all over her arms, steps up to the stage. She doesn't bother with silly chit-chat- she gets right to the point. "Our female tribute is- Taffy Sweedums."

My eyes widen at the sound of my name. _Did she just say Taffy Sweedums?_

This is the last thought I have before I fall backwards, fainting.

Clay Watson, 14, POV:

I walk next to the fence surrounding the grain field, dragging a stick against the chain-link. It makes a satisfying clinking noise, and I'm glad for it. It fills the silence that clouds the air like a heavy fog, and helps clear my mind.

Today is the first stage of The Hunger Games. When the tributes are chosen, and the sponsors have a first view of the competition. Stage One is always long and tedious-wondering who is going to be picked, dreading it's you, and listening to the boring speech that retells the history of the Games, like we don't already know.

I sigh and drop my stick when I hear footsteps behind me. Finally. I turn and see him standing there, holding the gloves. "It took you long enough," I say, going over and fingering the thick material.

"You know how it is. I couldn't risk getting caught," his eyes dart around nervously, but I know no one will be here this early. Not on Reaping Day.

"Not bad. I'll give you five coins," I say, going for a low amount.

"Seven," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"Six, and that's as high as I'm going," I clench the gloves in my hand. I have no intention of giving them back; it's just a matter of if he gets his money or not.

"Fine," he says, sensing my thoughts. I take the coins out of my pocket and dump them into his hand. It's a good thing he didn't insist on more, because I only brought six coins. I nod my head at him and walk in the other direction, slipping the gloves into my pocket. These are quite nice; they'll protect my hands from the hard exterior of the grain.

Guy deals in the black marketing business. He steals things from the merchant's stores, then passes the word along and sells the stuff for half the original price. It's a great deal, but it's risky. If you get caught, you could get hanged. But I still know I'll end up just like Guy- a thief who sells stolen goods.

I walk home and duck through the front door. My mother, oblivious as always, kisses my cheek. She smiles at me like I'm the whole purpose of her life. "Hey, Clay. Have you seen the money? I lost six coins, I just can't seem to find anything lately..." I shake my head, and her forehead creases. "What will I tell Lincoln? He always tells me to be careful..." She runs off and starts looking under the furniture for the missing money. I roll my eyes and head to my room to get ready for the Reapings. She is clueless, but I suppose that any woman who has a kid at sixteen with a thirty-year-old man is.

I comb back my hair but do nothing else. I don't have any nicer clothes, and I'm not dressing fancy for something stupid like this. I don't even take my gloves out of my pocket, because if Lincoln finds them, he'll flip. All spare money has to go towards his gambling, part of why we're o poor.

I head to the Square and sign in. When the Peacekeeper sees me, he narrows his eyes, but doesn't say anything. I just raise my eyebrows, daring him silently to bring up the incident. He doesn't, though, and I smile innocently before heading to the fifteen-year-old section, remembering the day with humor.

He had been walking by the fence, guarding it late at night. I'd snuck up behind him, taking his gun, (which he carelessly strapped to his shoulder) and turned it on him. He fell to the ground, whimpering like a baby. He said he'd do anything, as long as I didn't shoot him. I said that if he were ever to hear anything about any suspicions about the market, that he would shut them up. He was reluctant at first, but it wasn't hard to persuade him. One shot, narrowly missing his left leg, was enough to shut him up. I'd taken the gun, threatening to kill him in his sleep if he told anyone for good measure.

I'm lost in my memory, so I almost don't realize the escort stepping up to the stage. It's hard to miss her, with the blue hair and tattoos. I'm glad I missed the stupid speech, since our ancient mayor says the same thing every year in a dull monotone." Our female tribute is- Taffy Sweedums."

I snicker. She's the daughter of the sweetshop owner. She's fat and ugly, nothing like her hot older sister. I look over at her section and watch as she turns even whiter. Her eyes roll back and she faints. I actually laugh out loud, one little bark of amusement. Everyone looks at me like I'm crazy. They don't say anything, though; they know not to mess with me.

The Peacekeepers pick her up and take her away, and our escort plows right on like nothing ever happened. In fact, they're not even out of the section when she reads the next name. "Our male tribute is- Clay Watson."

I freeze for a second, not sure what she means. _Do they know I bought the gloves...?_

I shake myself a little and walk up to the stage. No one volunteers. I'm not really sure what to do, because the tributes usually shake hands around this point. I have no one to shake hands with, so I just give the cameras my best death stare.

Looks like this Stage One was interesting after all.

Taffy Sweedums, 16, POV:

I wake up several moments later, in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by unfamiliar people. "She's awake!" I hear someone holler in a hushed tone, an awkward combination.

"Whazzhappnin?" I try to speak, but everything is foggy, and I'm not sure they can understand me. Miraculously, she understands, and she delivers the worst news I have ever heard.

"You fainted, dear," the doctor looks at me with concern, and a little sadness. Everything hits me at the same time, with the force of a wrecking ball. I was reaped. I am going to the Hunger Games. I fainted on live TV.

"Since you aren't feeling well, we are going to have your goodbyes here," the doctor says, leaving the bedside with her clipboard.

I look around with frantic eyes. I want to call her back, but I seem to have lost the ability to speak. My parents and siblings come in and kneel at my bedside. Lolli, being twenty, was too old to volunteer; but I know that even if she could, she wouldn't.

"Oh, Taffy," my mother sobs. She's never paid me any attention before, but its nice to have her care now.

My brother stares at me with a pained expression, as if wondering what type of flowers to put on my grave. They don't humor me; its not like I have a chance of winning. My father stares at me with defeat. "When I think of this morning-" he chokes a little. I am brought back to the past, which feels like years though it was only hours. To when they were all exasperated and impatient at me, the way they always were. I can see that now they regret it.

I still can't speak. I wonder when I will get my voice back. My sister speaks next, lips tight, "Taffy, I brought something for you." She holds out a drop of chocolate, sitting on her palm, perfectly formed. They're my favorites, even better than the taffy. I take it and pop it into my mouth. The chocolate feels good, and I remember from somewhere that chocolate is good after you faint.

"I'll miss you guys," I finally speak. It sounds like so little, but the words have a lot of meaning. My brother takes my hand and squeezes it gently. I see a small bump on his head, from where I banged into it earlier. I rub it gently with my free hand, and he flinches a little at the tender spot.

The Peacekeepers come in then. I'm surprised at first, because I've never dealt with anything like this. Having no friends to cry over if they were reaped, I don't really know what to expect. But I feel like the light is being punched out of me when I watch them leave me here alone, with these strange doctors.

"Don't go..." I choke out, but its too late. They can't hear me anymore, not where I'm going.

Clay Watson, 15, POV:

I'm escorted into the Justice Building. It's nice in here, and I can't help but think of the best ways to steal this stuff, left so carelessly on shelves or tables.

I sit in my room, staring around at the fancy furniture. I'm not going to be one of those babies who cries when their family comes to visit them. I really couldn't care less about them.

My mother comes in, looking stunned, like she can't believe this is happening. My father follows behind her, trying to hide a smile. I know he couldn't wait to get rid of me, since I'm just the troublesome kid he never wanted. I don't know who's more excited that I'm leaving- me or him.

"Oh, Clay, I-I don't know what to do," she sits down and folds her hands in her lap, her mouth gaping and her eyes staring at nothing. She has always been a little naive, always trusting in her black-market son and her twice-her-age husband. She is the very picture of someone so shocked but so dim.

"Don't worry, Ma. I'll be home soon," I rub her shoulder, and she looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears and her chin trembling.

"I don't want you to leave me," she looks so sad, so heartbroken, that for a second I feel a flicker of something, something warm and feathery. I brush the feeling aside, and hug her, one last time. I look into my father's eyes over her shoulder: his cruel, uncaring eyes. In them I can see that he can't wait for me to leave. His little delinquent.

"I love you, Mom," she smiles at me, that same innocent smile from this morning, like I light up her life. I feel bad for looking down on her all these years. I want to say something to make up for it, but I can't find the words, so I don't.

"I love you too, Clay," The Peacekeepers take them away. My father's arm wraps around her waist, and she leans against him. At least she'll have someone, even if he is a gambler. He may hate my guts, but he loves her with all his heart. Not much, since it's all a black hole, but still.

I'm surprised to see Guy come in. He's twenty-something years old, not really a close friend or anything. He's just the guy I go to when I need something cheap. An acquaintance.

"Hey, Clay," he pats my back awkwardly. From the bulge in his jacket, I can see he just stole something from the badly guarded building. No wonder he came to visit me.

I roll my eyes at him. "What did you take?"

He sits down, excited. "I got this really nice vase. I can probably sell it to the antiques store and make a fortune."

The corner of my mouth pops up, but then I remember something. "Hey, Guy?" He looks up at me, curious. "Can you give these to my Mom? I don't think they'll let me take them with me, and I want her to at least have them."

"Sure," he nods and holds out his hand, but I won't give them to him just yet.

"On your honor?" I ask.

"My honor as a thief," he rolls his eyes, but I feel better. This is one promise I know he'll keep, because if there's one thing he's earned, it's his ability to keep a promise.

The Peacekeepers come in then. Obviously, they're oblivious to the bulge that was obvious to me. He turns and winks once before the doors shut. I'm left alone now, not even the gloves to comfort me.

Time for Stage Two.

**Author's Note: I really liked writing this chapter. They're not your typical tributes... Anyway, I went back through my previous chapters, and I'm realizing just how awful my grammar/spelling was... Oh well. Still not going to proofread. Thanks for all the reviews-it's nice to have some feedback, and I obsessively stalk my new chapters for reviews... not kidding. I'll have the next chapter up soon, less competition for the computer this weekend (woot woot!) Okay, if you're still reading this, I have a challenge: You know those mutts I described in chapter one? Well I don't know what they are yet, so if you have an interesting mutt, let me know. K bye!**


	11. District Ten Reapings

District Ten: Livestock

Lindia Elmswood, 14, POV:

I toss and turn in my fluffy bed, the comforters feeling too warm and the pillows too soft. I finally just give up and get out of bed, sliding into a robe.

I walk down the long hall of our home and past my father's study. Besides being my Dad, he is also the mayor of District Ten. I hear voices coming from the other side of the door, and I pause, pressing my ear to the door.

"Mayor Elmswood, thank you for your hospitality," I shudder at the voice of our escort. He arrived last night, and he was part of the reason I couldn't sleep. All I could keep thinking about was that _thing _sleeping in the room right next to me. "Now, we really must go over the proceedings for the Reapings,,,"

"Really, I do think I'd know my own speech!" my Dad says gruffly. I know he doesn't care too much for our escort, either. He's awfully prissy for a man, and he's rude.

"We'll see," he must be smiling coldly, because chills shiver down my spine at his tone of voice. I hear footsteps coming, so I run down the hall, away from the room so he can't tell I've been listening.

He walks by, his hips swiveling. He glances at me with his yellow snake eyes, but only for a second. He must believe I didn't hear anything, that I've been here the whole time. My father follows a few steps after, rubbing a hand through his thinning hair.

"Good morning, dad," I hug him tightly, then follow Lax down to breakfast.

Our servants serve us ham, eggs, and lightly buttered toast with coffee. Lax dumps half of the sugar into his cup before even taking a sip, and he requests more butter for his toast and some salt for his eggs. "Certainly," Layta says, forcing a smile onto her face and walking away stiffly. He's only been here for two days, and he's already gotten on everyone's last nerve.

"Are you ready for the Reapings?" Lax says, looking at me. I'm surprised, since he's barely addressed me since he's been here, and even then only to tell me to fetch a towel or find someone to give him some food, like I'm a mere servant. "You're eligible, right?" His eyes rake over me, as if considering something.

"Yes. It's my third year," I say, swallowing nervously. His stare makes me feel nervous, as if he's calculating something.

"No reason. It's rare that a mayor's child gets reaped, anyway." He looks away and takes a sip of coffee. I glance over at my Dad, who is narrowing his eyes at Lax. He looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it.

"Go get ready, Lidia," my Dad says, eyes still on Lax. I do as I'm told and leave the table, going up to my room.

I brush my hair until it hands perfectly smooth and knot-free. I place a small silver locket around my neck, then go and search my closet for something nice. My Mother was a seamstress, and she still sews dresses, so I have plenty. I choose a simple green dress that compliments my eyes and slip it on. I choose black heels that match the headband I pull around my head. I look just like a mayor's daughter should: prim, proper, and well-mannered.

I walk to the Square, which is just out the front door. I walk down the steps, and as I do, I get a lot of envious glares. People tend to dislike me because I don't have to take tesserae, and my chances of being pulled aren't very likely. And I always have enough to eat.

I stand in my section with Thalia, my best friend and a girl from the poorer parts of town. I often sneak her some food and money, because her family needs it. She grabs my hand and squeezes it. She's terrified of being Reaped and going to the Games. A very real fear, considering the number of times she's taken tesserae. But she has to, to feed her family.

My Dad says his speech, but I don't pay attention. I keep my eyes locked on Lax, who is staring at my father like he'd gladly kill him in his sleep. But when he steps up to the microphone, he is all cheery and loud, like every other escort across Panem.

"Let the Districts of the glorious Capitol celebrate, for the time has come for the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games!" No one does anything but blink and breathe, but he doesn't let that bother him. He picks the first slip of paper he touches. As he's walking back to the podium, I can swear he's smiling evilly at me. But the next words out of his mouth knock that thought right out of my mind. "Lindia Elmswood."

I can't move. I feel like I am frozen, unable to control any part of my body. The other kids make a wide circle around me, and I am frozen in the center like an ice sculpture. The only reason I'm not crying is because the shock hasn't worn away yet.

"Come on, Lindia," Lax says, beckoning me forward. I start to walk, but as soon as I move, tears start falling. I make it up to the stage and face the crowd. "Any volunteers?" I desperately hope that someone, _anyone_, will volunteer and save me from this nightmare, but no one does. "What a pity," he picks a boy's name, and his form is blurry from the tears in my eyes. "Esther Glade."

A small boy from the twelve-year-old section comes up next. His brown eyes are wide and his lower lip is trembling. He probably had about as much a chance of being reaped as I did. He probably wasn't expecting it, either. He won't last very long.

Come to think of it, neither will I.

Esther Glade, 12, POV:

I duck around the trees, the stitch in my side burning. I'm not very fast, so it's a pain to have to chase my six-year-old brother through the woods. "Woody!" I shout, stopping for a moment to catch my breath. I lean against a tree for support, clutching at my side. "Mom's reaaaaalllllyyy mad! She wants you to come home right now or she'll put you in time out!"

Which is a lie, of course. Mom doesn't even know I lost him, or that he's gone. I was supposed to keep him in the house while she went to deliver some laundry. He begged me to come outside, and I let him, not knowing that he would go crazy and run halfway across the district.

"Come find meeee!" I turn around sharply, and see a small shoe peeking out from behind a nearby trunk. I tiptoe around the other way, so he won't see me coming. I grab him around the waist, and he squeals. He tries to squirm away, but I keep him in a tight grip.

"Aha!" I say triumphantly, and I start dragging him back to our small house. He doesn't fight, but instead lets me drag him, giggling. When we get home, I dump him inside and bolt the door, which is just out of his reach. "No more outside." I say sternly. He just gets up and runs around. Little kids seem to have so much energy.

My Mom comes in then, looking tired. Her dark hair is graying, and she has bruise-like shadows under her eyes. Not to mention the worry lines on her forehead.

"Hello, Mama," I say, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Mornin' Esther. Is Woody sleeping?" She asks in the accent of the slum section of town.

"Of course not," I say, smiling a little.

"Of course," she sighs, and falls into a chair. She works herself to the bone over a washboard, since she can't find work anywhere else. She's considered too weak to work on the ranches, she can't stand to kill animals, and she doesn't have any skills to work in a merchant's shop. Instead, she collects the clothes from the richer people in town and washes them for a small fee.

"Here. I'll make breakfast." I fry some eggs and butter some bread. That's it. We don't really have the money to afford the nice butchered meats or fancy breads that they sell in the Square. We make enough to get by, and that's it. As soon as I turn fourteen, I'm going to get a job in the District, probably as a Sheppard boy.

We eat around the table in silence. My father was the one who always made the talk at the table, but he was trampled by some horses last year. I don't remember much; just the swollen shell of a body being loaded up and taken to the graveyard. I visit it every weekend and pretend to talk to him about life without him and give him updates. I like to think that someday, in another world, we will meet. Not any time soon, though.

I head up to my room and get ready for the reapings. I just pull on a white shirt and long brown pants. It's hot out, but I don't want to go with my legs that show the bruises of falling down in the woods. A lot.

We head for the Square, our hands linked. Little Woody is in the center, swinging our arms. Other than that, he is perfectly behaved. He knows that today is a somber occasion, but he doesn't really know why. My Mom never lest him watch the Hunger Games past the interviews. One day he will, though, and he'll learn the horrors of the world.

I am forced to separate from my family at the Square. It's my first Reapings, so I'm not really worried. My name's only in there four times; that's nothing compared to some of the older kids.

I hesitate at the sign-in part, not sure what to do. A kinder-looking seventeen-year-old steps in front of me, and I watch him. The Peacekeeper pricks his arm with a needle, (none too gently) then he signs in. I follow his lead. The needle hurts a little, and there is the oddest sensation like the blood is being drawn out of my finger. Then it's over.

In my section, I see my usual group of friends. It's strange to see them dressed up and with their hair combed, and it clearly makes them uncomfortable. We greet each other, then stare at the stage. It's oddly silent between us; we are usually rowdy. But today is not a day for laughter.

The mayor steps up and reads his speech. I know his daughter is eligible for the Reapings, and I've seen her around school. She seems nice, but I can't help but hate her because she never has to worry about starving, or being reaped.

"Let the districts of the glorious Capitol celebrate, for the time has come for the forty-ninth Hunger Games!" No one moves, but he plows on anyway. I've never paid much attention to his appearance before, but it's sickening. From the slight lisp in his voice, I can tell that he must have something in his tongue. I shudder slightly. "Lindia Elmswood."

I am one of the many that gasp. _A _mayor's_ daughter? Reaped? _"Come on, Lindia." She finally steps up, and she looks desperate, begging for volunters. I see the mayor, and his face is white, like the blood has been drained from it. Mrs. Elmswood is blinking back tears. "Any volunteers?" No one steps up. "What a pity." He claws around the boy's ball for a moment. "Esther Glade." He reads out, his lisp distorting my name.

My mouth falls open, and I feel my heart stop. I feel like I was just punched in the gut- I have no air in my body. I walk slowly up to the stage.

This is impossible. I look into Lindia's wide green eyes, and I can tell that she, like me, thought she was safe.

The impossible just became possible.

Lindia Elmswood, 14, POV:

I walk back into the Justice Building on shaky legs. I was just here moments ago; it's strange how drastically my mood has changed. Where once my home was warm and open, it now feels cold and empty.

We are led down a hallway I've never been in, and I am placed in a room to await my family. This is my home, yet I've never been in this room before. It is strange to think about, especially with a stranger in the room next door.

My mother and father come in first. They are both crying, just like me.

"You were supposed to be safe," my Mother whispers, looking at me with horror. She throws her arms over me and cries, kissing my head, my cheeks. I wrap my arms around her and actually start sobbing. _I don't want to die. I don't want to be in the Hunger Games. I don't want my parents to leave me._

"This is all my fault. What did you do to deserve this?" My father mutters, clutching his graying hair. I don't know what he is talking about. How is my being reaped his fault? Sure, it was highly unlikely and the odds were supposed to be in my favor. But there is no way to cheat the drawing.

"What?" I say, still hugging my mother tight to me. She is beyond words, and her tears are staining my dress. I doubt she has ever been in this room either. "Does it have anything to do with this morning?"

He looks surprised that I know of his little tiff with Lax, but he answers nonetheless. "I- I don't... It was a combination of this morning and some of our earlier... discrepancies. " he says, and the dark look that crosses his face makes it clear the conversation is over.

The Peacekeepers barge through the door. My father kisses my forehead one last time, whispers, "I love you," and walks out with them. My mother starts to get up, and I let out a choked sob.

"Don't leave me! Mommy!" I grab frantically at her hand, and she makes an animal sound as she fights to reach me. "MOMMY! DON'T GO! DADDY!" My father turns with pain in his eyes, and he reaches for me. They are dragging my parents away and I hold on to my mother's arm as long as I can before they shut the door. I claw at it, tears streaming hot down my cheeks. "MOMMY! DADDY! DON'T LEAVE ME! COME BACK! DON'T GO!" But I know it's useless. I just lay there on the floor, crying, my heart shattering into a million pieces.

When the door opens again, I make no move to get up. I just lay there, still crying. A pair of gentle hands prod at me, trying to get me to move. "Come on, Lindia. Come sit on the couch."

I let my friend guide me, not really moving on my own. When she releases me I collapse onto my chair and just cry. I hear sniffles, but through my own tears I can't tell if she's crying or not.

"Shhh, shhh," Thalia says, patting my arm. I remember being worried for her this morning, thinking of all the times she's been entered, even at this young age. I should have been more worried about myself, but when is the mayor's daughter ever reaped?

I suck in gasping breaths through my teeth, and I can barely talk, "I-I-I don't w-w-want t-t-t go," I whine, curling into a ball and staying there.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, and if she wasn't crying before, she is now. "I'll miss you. Thank you. For everything you've done." she presses a small object into my hand. I look at it. It's a small pebble, smooth from being washed over by a river. "It's not much, but-" she says. I squeeze the pebble in my hand. I will keep this with me until the final moment.

I know it will come. When has a girl like me ever won?

Esther Glade, 12, POV:

Lindia and I are lead into the Justice Building. I glance at her, hoping for support. This is new for her, too. Then I realize that this is her home. She had a pampered life. I don't want her support.

We are led to two separate rooms, and I'm glad for the alone time. I try to clear my head, but two words keep drifting around and finding their way into my thoughts. _Hunger Games. _I feel the tears welling in my eyes and try to push them down, but it's too hard, so I let them fall freely.

The doors open and my Mother comes in, holding Woody in her arms. Tears are falling from her brown eyes, and Woody is looking around in confusion. "Where are we, Mama?" She sets him down and kisses his head before coming to me. She looks into my eyes and clutches at the tops of my arms.

"You are so like your father," she whispers, her voice breaking. My heart swells up, and it feels like I am choking on it.

"I don't want to go," I say, burying my face into her chest, just like I used to when I was little.

"I know baby, I know," She is sobbing now, clutching at me as she rocks me back and forth.

"Mama?" Woody asks, slipping next to us on the couch. "Where is Esther going?" He is a lot more perceptive than I thought he was. Looking at us, tears of his own well up. "Esther?" he asks, looking panicked.

"I'm going on a little trip." I say, unable to share the truth with him. "You'll see me on TV, like those other kids." My voice is thick.

"Please don't go," he says, wiggling his way in between me and my Mom. "I'll miss you." He throws his arms around he and snuggles his head against my neck. My heart shatters. I don't want them to ever leave.

But all too soon, the Peacekeepers come and take them away. Woody looks so small next to their hulking forms, and his eyes are frightened. My Mother takes his hand and leaves with him "I love you so much, Esther," she whispers before the doors shut.

I close my eyes, feeling utterly alone. First my father left them, and now me. How will they survive? Who will take care of little Woody while I'm not there? Who will he play hide-and-seek with, who will tell him stories at night? Who will be there for him when he has a bad day, when he needs an older brother?

My friends come in next. Hadley and Brennan and Jakob. All of them look as surprised as me, yet they weren't even reaped. "I-I..." Hadley doesn't seem to know what to say. He _always _has something to say, and he is the unspoken leader of our group. But now he has nothing to say.

"Esther, listen. The Games are just that- a game of the mind. You know how to be hungry. You know how to deceive. No one knows what the arena will be. You need to keep your head." It's Brennan who speaks. He's the brain, and he always helped us with our homework. He will probably be an engineer when he grows up. Of course it's him who would have this analogy for the Games. A mind game.

"I can't win," I say through the tears. They don't even make fun of me for crying, like they normally would.

"Then don't go down without a fight. Show 'em what you're made of." Jakob's eyes are bright. He is constantly getting into trouble for fighting. It's only fitting that he would say that.

"Please- Just... Just help Woody if... if he needs it." I say closing my eyes. I can't think about dying and fighting right now. I need to get away from here.

They just nod, sensing my feelings. When the Peacekeepers come, they shuffle out in a single file, heads down, shoes scuffing the floor.

Moments later, I am escorted out of the room. I see that Lindia has also been crying. Even the mayor's daughter isn't safe.

No one is safe in the Hunger Games.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey... so I have an idea for my next story. I know, I know, I'm already writing two. But I just can't help it. Here's a quick summary, if you know of another story like it, oh well. I didn't find any. Please don't copy, I'm proud of this and telling you in the hopes that you will find it interesting.**

**The Titants won the war. As punishment, the twelve main Gods muh each send one of their children between the ages of twelve and eighteen to fight to the death in an arena. Only one will live and emerge victorious. These are the Halfblood Games. An SYOD. Muahahahahahahahaha! Would YOU submit one, or is this stupid?**


	12. District Eleven Reapings

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, I changed Rosemary and Cobalt a little bit. I wanted to make her more... rebellious, and him more... sarcasticish? Don't really know. Hope you don't mind, and it's too late if you do.**

District Eleven: Agriculture

Rosemary "Rose" Greene, 16, POV:

A breeze blows through my tree, fluttering the pages of the book I'm reading. I look up, surveying the area, an apple half-way to my mouth. It's still early, and it's Reaping Day, but that doesn't mean someone isn't out and about. If I were caught, I could technically be arrested for three things: being in the orchard without supervision, reading an "outside" book, and eating the fruits of the tree.

I hop down nimbly from my perch, tucking my book into my satchel. I don't see anyone, but just in case, I take the back way out of the orchard, hopping the fence surrounding it with ease. I run on the hard-packed earth, my bare feet barely even making a sound.

When I make it home, I jump through the window so no one will know I've been gone. My parents don't really "approve" of my reading habits, because they don't want me to die. I crawl under my rough straw mattress and open the little cave underneath by pulling on a hatch. I slip the book, which has been passed through my family for generations, inside and close it, making sure it's secure. Can't have the Peacekeepers finding it.

I come out from under the bed and head out to the kitchen. My whole family is already sitting at the table, waiting for breakfast.

"Morning Mom, Dad," I say, making my way through them, "Lana, Luna," my sisters, twins, who are thirteen, "Haden, Harry," my brothers, Haden, who is fourteen, and Harry, who is eleven. These are the reasons I take tesserae- for my family.

My Mother narrows her eyes at me. "Where were you this morning?" I bite my lip, not wanting to outright lie, but I know that she knows that I know that she means.

"Just... running some errands," I say, careful of what I reveal in front of the others. They don't know about the books yet; in fact, my Mother wanted to keep them hidden from me, so naturally, I found them and stole them. Even she doesn't know the location of the books, in the secret place I made under my mattress.

I sit down next to Harry and serve myself some eggs. It's simple, and not very much, but it's standard fare for District Eleven. We'll be having our "fancy" food later, for the Thank God None of You Were Reaped dinner. "Did you have a good rest, Harry?" I ask, too innocently, trying to get the conversation away from me.

It works. He rolls his eyes, "What do you think?" Even though he's not eligible yet, I know he's worried. I also know that Haden would immediately volunteer for him if he were, just like I would volunteer for Lana or Luna.

After we eat, I go back to the room I share with Lana and Luna. We get ready for the Reaping, Lana doing Luna's hair, me doing Lana's hair. It's calming work, and the strands of her freshly washed hair feel silky in my fingers.

I pull on a navy blue dress that ends just above my knees and has a small flower pinned on left strap. Lana and Luna wear similar dresses to mine, except in different colors. I just leave my brown hair in waves, since I can't do my own hair. In the mirror, I look pretty nice. I also have one blue eye and one green eye. Some people might find it strange, but others find it intriguing.

We head out to the Reaping. We are a large family, but most people have three or more children in District Eleven. The whole town seems quiet, and no one is talking. I see another family walking by, all with red hair and pale skin, strange for District Eleven, since most are tan with dark hair, like me.

In my section, I stand next to Selene Clark. She's my best friend, and I see her as my little sister. She's loud, hyper, and naive, but that's why I love her. Her hair is also red and she has pale skin, like the family I saw earlier. "Hi, Rose," she says. Her whisper is like a normal person's talking.

"Hello," I say lightly. She takes my hand and squeezes it lightly. One look at her trusting face and I know she wouldn't make it that far in the Games. There is no doubt in my mind that I would volunteer for her.

The mayor steps up and says his speech, but no one is really paying attention. Most are just praying that it's not them, and they are waiting, anxious, for the names to be chosen. "I'm going to select two- only two- of you to represent your district. And what an honor those two will share! Not only will they get to visit the Capitol, but they will get the once-in-a-lifetime chance to participate in the Hunger Games!" Linen, our escort, says. Her hair is purple, with golden butterflies mixed in. It must be uncomfortable, but then again, the Capitol styles are odd. "And our female tribute is," she clears her throat, and the time ticks on. It's agonizing. "Rosemary Greene."

So many emotions course through me at once that I have a hard time separating them. Shock, fear, anxiety, anger, and confusion. But I suppose that's what the Capitol wants- confusion. And I can't let the Capitol have what they want. I need to keep a clear head, because if I don't have that, I don't have anything.

I walk up to the stage, my chin out. I won't let them break me. I look out at the crowd as an eighteen year old boy is reaped. I realize that he is from the strange pale family I noticed earlier. I don't acknowledge him except when I have to shake his hand. It's strange the way he looks at me, almost like he's fascinated. I turn back to face the crowd. The Capitol wants a fight? I'll give them a fight.

Cobalt Denali, 18, POV:

"Ew!" My ten year old sister, Carnation, shrieks, jumping up from her chair and running into the family room.

"What?" I ask. I know I'm not the _best_ cook, but I'm pretty sure my omelets aren't _that_ bad. I poke at the eggs and cheese with my fork; they look perfectly fine to me.

"The bug! Kill it, Cobalt!" I don't see a bug. I look around, then I see it- a small black dot crawling around the rim of the plate. I make a big show of squishing it in the napkin, then throwing it out. She comes over, tentatively, then sits down. I roll my eyes at her. _If she can't deal with a small bug now, just wait until she gets into the orchards..._

Fraye stumbles in then, wiping the sleep from his eyes, "Eggs? Again?" he wines, slumping in his chair. I clench my jaw to keep from yelling at him. I try to remember that he's only ten, and whining comes naturally, but I just want to scream at him. Every single day he finds something to complain about, and usually it's my lack of cooking ability. I love him, I really do; but give me a break.

"Yes," I say, trying to control my temper. It gets tiring to hear him whine. "Just like every other day. Unless YOU have a secret stash of money and a five-star chef waiting-"

"I'll take care of them. You go get ready." I turn and see my Mother standing there, her hair in the usual bun. Her features are as severe as her voice, and no one crosses her. I know I was about to explode, and it's a good thing she intervened. I nod and walk out. As I do, I see a flicker of something in her eyes- fear? It's my last year, so I have a lot of entries in there. I'm worried, but I'm even more anxious for when, in a few years, I won't be able to volunteer for Fraye.

I pull on a navy-blue button-down shirt and a pair of jeans. It's simple, like most of the other outfits in the District. I comb my short red hair back and splash my face with some cool water before heading out. It always feels too hot and humid on District Eleven, and there are bugs and people everywhere.

We head out to the Square. We are a very tight-knit family. Take away one, and the whole thing is damaged, since we re all essential. My father is the glue that holds us together, my Mother is the one who enforces the rules, my siblings keep us entertained, and I take care of everyone.

I separate from the others at the Square. I'm the only one eligible for the Reaping. I'm not planning on volunteering, and I hope I don't get Reaped. I sign in, so used to the stab of pain that it doesn't really hurt anymore.

I stand in my section, waiting for the Reapings to start. Then, a pair of hands cover my eyes, and a sing-song voice says, "Guess whooooo?"

"Hindley!" I protest, slapping his hand away.

"What?" he cackles, dodging the next punch I aim at him. Even today's serious mood doesn't effect his ... spirit.

"Just stop," I say, turning back to the stage.

"Aw, I'm just trying to have some fun," he teases, but he also turns to look at the stage as our mayor steps up. "Do you think he'll fart into the microphone/" Hindley whispers, putting his mouth right next to my ear. I push him away, not really in the mood for his immaturity.

After the speech, which is the same as it is every other year, our escort steps up. She has long violet hair with golden butterflies in it, which is ridiculous. I doubt she has ever even seen a real butterfly flying around. "I'm going to select two- only two- of you to represent your district. And what an honor those two will share! Not only will they get to visit the Capitol, but they will get the once-in-a-lifetime chance to participate in the Hunger Games!" she has a dreamy look in her eyes when she speaks of the Capitol. She probably can't wait to get back to her band of freaks. "And our female tribute is," she clears her throat for dramatic effect, "Rosemary Greene."

A girl from the sixteen-year-old section steps up. She doesn't cry, like most tributes do. She looks scared, shocked, and angry, but there's also a set to her chin that I understand as defiance. She won't go down without a fight, and maybe not just against the tributes.

Linen, our escort, throws one of her purple fingernails in the boy's ball. "And our male tribute is," another dramatic effect. I'm impatient, because I just want to know who it is, "Cobalt Denali."

_Shit. _A whole string of other not-so-nice words run through my mind as I move forward. I gulp, and try to force myself not to feel. I feel like gravity is pulling me to the stage, to where the other girl already stands, still with that defiant set to her chin. The escort keeps talking, but I ignore her, looking into the girl's eyes instead. One is the lightest shade of green, the other the darkest blue I've ever seen in anyone's eyes. Strange, but oddly intriguing. I can't help but wonder what secrets those eyes are hiding.

I shake her hand, which seems to feel so perfect in mine, but she just turns and faces the crowd, a small smirk still on her face. Her composure is quite amazing, but I see something bubbling beneath the surface. She is calculating something.

And I will find out what, even if it kills me.

Rosemary "Rose" Greene, 16, POV:

The air in the Justice Building is cool, and it feels pleasantly warm on my skin. I'm thankful, because my head feels warm and I might be sick. The Peacekeepers take us to two separate rooms, and I can't stop shaking. I am still reeling from the shock.

I collapse into a chair. It is very comfortable, made from a smooth velvet that my skin is not accustomed to. I rub my hands over the surface, and it calms me somewhat, but my hands are still shaking a little. District Eleven hasn't had a victor in years. More often than not, it's a Career that wins. A Career that is three times my size, that can snap my neck with one hand...

My parents come in, and I'm shaking again. My Mother is crying, and so is my Father. I have never seen my Father cry, so it is a shock for me to see the tears now. "Rose," my Mother strokes my hair, wrapping her arms around me. I hug her, and a strangled sob escapes my lips. I fight the tears back. Crying won't solve my problems. Crying is useless, because it makes everything look worse.

"I love you," I whisper, dreading the moment when I will be forced to let go. My Father kneels next to us and holds my hand. "You can win," he says, desperate, "A few years ago, no one thought Seeder could win, but she did." Seeder. A girl who was even smaller than me, a little pixie. But her looks masked the killing machine that she was, hopping around in trees and using a poison dart gun to pick the others off without even having to come down. A good strategy, and it worked, because by the time the others remembered her, it was too late.

"Dad," I say softly, begging him to understand that I'm not "winning" material. I can accept that, but that doesn't mean I can deal with it. I still know that I will fight to win, even though I can't.

"Why not?" he says stubbornly, "You're smart. You can climb. All you need is a weapon..." I silence him with a kiss to his forehead. I love them so much, and a lump forms in my throat.

"Goodbye, Dad. I love you, Mom," the Peacekeepers escort them out, and my Father presses the three middle fingers of his left hand to his lips and holds them out to me. I do the same, but the Peacekeepers yank him away before he can see it. The door closes, and I drop my head. I feel like a huge weight has been dropped into my stomach.

Four people walk in next. My siblings. Haden, Lana, Luna, and Harry. I hug each of them in turn, squeezing them close to me. These are the memories that will give me strength in the days to come. These are the faces that I will remember when I want to give up, when my muscles give out and I just want to lay there and die, because I need to keep fighting for them, to get back to them.

"Haden," I say, very seriously. He looks up with sorrow in his eyes. "You need to take care of them. You're the oldest now," he nods solemnly. I'm glad that he'll be able to take care of them when I can't. I look around and see that Harry is crying. "Harry, what's wrong?"

He sniffles and climbs into my lap. "I-I'ts j-just that you're g-g-going to the H-H-Hunger Games and what if you d-d-die and I d-don't want you t-to go." My heart clenches. He's still so young.

"Don't worry Harry, I won't die," I say, instantly regretting my choice of words. I should have said, _I'll try my best, _but those words sound heartless, and I want him to have hope, at least for a while longer.

The Peacekeeper come, and they all leave. I press my lips to each of their foreheads, then they are gone. I've been there their whole lives. We've never been apart for even a day, but this separation will be permanent. My eyes burn with the tears that I refuse to shed.

Selene comes in next. Her green eyes are wide and shocked. For the first time, ever, she is speechless. She is not smiling, and her step has no bounce. "What happened?" She asks, mostly to herself. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember. What will happen to her now?

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. She doesn't tell me I can win, or even to try. She just takes off her bracelet and hands it to me. It's blue and green, and it looks home-made.

"Use it as your token," she says, holding it out to me.

"I can't," I say, closing her hand around it.

"Please. To remember me," she says, like I could ever forget my best friend.

"I'll always remember you. And you'll always be my best friend," I say. She hugs me, and when she pulls away, I see tears in her eyes.

"And you'll always be mine. Just remember that I'll be here, rooting for you," she smiles, just a tiny one, as she leaves. It pains my heart to watch her go, especially seeing that long braid of red hair as she leaves. Red. The color of the hair of my competitor.

And the color of blood.

Cobalt Denali, 18, POV:

The inside of the Justice Building is much nicer than the outside might suggest. It also offers shade from the sun, and there are no cameras in here, for which I am thankful. I drag my hands across my face, too tired and too raw to care. So this is what it feels like to be reaped.

Rosemary is ushered into the room right next to mine. They are quite stylish, with fancy chairs and windows, but style doesn't matter to me. I would feel more comfortable in my own family room, with its saggy chairs, than on these plush ones.

My parents come in first. My Mother looks disheveled. Loose strands are falling out of her bun, and her eyes lack their usual glint. My Father is trying to be strong, but I can clearly see the pain etched on his face. I think of earlier, when I thought of how if you took one of us away, you leave the rest damaged. It's ironic, because now it's happening.

"Cobalt," My Father says, "You were such a good boy," His face looks one thousand years old when he speaks, like he has seen all the pain in the world. His brother dies in the Games years ago, and now he will be losing his son to them. His voice cracks, and he covers his face with his hands.

"You will come home to me," my Mother says sternly. Even now her voice still has that sharp tone to it. "I forbid anything else." She sets her mouth. I know that she will hold the others together. If my Father is the glue, then she is the rock. Always there, and always dependable.

"I love you guys." We embrace, and the Peacekeepers take them away. My Mom keeps on a brave face for me, and my Dad swallows his grief. For now.

Carnation and Fraye come in next. Again, I remember this morning, when I worried about not being able to volunteer for them in a few years. Now I won't even be there for them.

"Cobalt?" Carnation asks, a crease between her eyes, "Tell me you're not going to the Hunger Games. Can't I go instead?" This morning, she couldn't even kill a bug. I can't imagine her lasting even five minutes in the Hunger Games.

"No," I say firmly. "You need to stay here with Mommy and Daddy." She nods, like I've just given he a very important job.

"You will try to win, right?" Fraye asks. I can see the tears he's fighting to keep back.

"Of course." I am not going down without a fight.

"I wish I were like you," Fraye mumbles, head down.

"What?" I'm surprised. Fraye's never said anything like this before, and it is so unlike him.

"I want to be big and strong like you," he says, "And work in the fields to make money." How could he be wishing away his childhood? Then I realize that he wants to help us make money, just like me. I am his hero. A lump forms in my throat, and I hug them one last time before they are taken away.

Hindley comes in next. He's my best friend. He didn't volunteer, but friendship only goes so far. "Is this real?" he asks. His voice sounds more mature, less childish than usual.

"I wish it weren't." I can finally take down my brave face. I don't have to pretend with Hindley. He gets me better than anyone else.

"Listen, when you get to the Capitol..." he breaks off and grins. I want to slap him for a second, because I've just been given a one-way ticket to the Capitol and almost certain death. "When you get to the Capitol, pull off Caesar's wig for me."

I don't know what happened, but I burst out laughing. It feels so good that I just keep laughing. "I will," I say, "And that's a promise I can keep." Hindley slaps me on the back, then walks out. He'll be fine without me, he'll just need to find someone else to tease.

But I, on the other hand, am far from alright.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it took so long to update. Things are crazy, and this chapter took me a while. I kept starting, then deleting, then restarting it. I wanted to find something... just right. I feel like I didn't fully capture them, and I'm sorry, especially since it took so long. Also, I feel like it's getting repetitive. Wake up, go to Reaping, say goodbye, promise to win. But soon will come better and more exciting things than Reapings! And since everyone likes my SYOD idea, I'll be putting that up around when the Games start. **


	13. District Twelve Reapings

/District Twelve: Mining

Acacia Andalu, 18, POV:

I tip-toe carefully across the room, not wanting to wake my Father. I can see the fresh bottles littered around his bed, and I know he'll be severely hung-over. I don't need to give him an excuse to hit me, so I'll let him sleep.

I freeze when I step on a squeaky floorboard. The creak is not loud enough to wake him, but my sister's eyes immediately shoot open. I press my fingers to my lips, and she glances over at Dad, who is snoring loudly. She nods, then gets up, her stocking feet barely making a sound.

As soon as we get out of the single bedroom and ease the door shut, the tension subsides. This is just a normal part of the routine. Wake up, try not to give him a reason to beat us up. The only reason I put up with him is so that Quillin and I don't get taken to a community home. I've seen those kids, and I refuse to let her end up like them. I know that once I'm free from this Reaping, I'm moving out, and taking Quillin with me.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask intently.

"Do we even _have_ anything?" she rolls her eyes. I wonder how she can be so nonchalant about things like starvation.

The first cabinet I open has nothing in it, but the second yields our standard breakfast, and I feel a squeeze of relief in my chest. "Yes! It's a feast! Here's the chicken," I plop down a container of flour, "Here's the pudding," I slam down the oats, "And here's the wine!" I take out a kettle and fill it with water. Quillin laughs a little, and I smile with her. This is what we do in strenuous situations- tell jokes. It's easier to laugh than deal with pain.

We set to work. Quillin puts the kettle over the stive and I set to work, mashing the oats into smaller pieces. She dumps flour into the mixture, and we pour it and the boiling water into a pot. It's an unappetizing gray color, but at least we have something to fill our bellies.

Quillin and I sit at the table and eat our hot grain in silence. She surprises me by speaking, especially in such a serious tone. "Who do you think it will be this year?" She looks genuinely worried. She's sixteen, and with tesserae she has twenty-five entries. Not much better than my thirty-five, but even that is a small number compared to those with forty entries.

"I don't know," I shrug, trying not to worry about it. Worrying doesn't help; it doesn't change the outcome. I'll just deal with it when the time comes. The only thing I am certain of is that I will volunteer for her. Not only is she my sister; she is my best friend. "Come on. Time to get ready."

Quillin and I don't have much clothes. Our Father spends all the money that we don't have buying liquor, and our Mom died of lung cancer years ago. Not really a surprise, since she worked in the mines just like everyone else in District Twelve. I just end up wearing a gray dress that was once white, and Quillin wears a similar dress with a hole in the side. I don't even bother waking up our Dad. When the Peacekeepers come to see why he didn't show up, he will be so hung-over he'll look sick anyway.

Quillin and I head to the Square together. Later today, there will be two families with boarded-up windows, mourning their children. We've only ever had one victor, and it doesn't seem like we'll have one anytime soon.

The Square is crowded, and everyone moves in orderly lines to sign in. I scan the crowd for my sister and finally see her, looking around in panic. I start to push through the people to get to her. Most scowl at me but don't do anything else, since today is the Reaping.

I almost make it to her when I bump into a younger boy, who bangs into a Peacekeeper's table. He scowls, "Walk much?"

"Sorry," I mumble, my face red. He just huffs and walks away, shaking his head. My face feels hot. I didn't mean to do it, he must know that, right? I make my way over to my sister, making sure I don't bump into anyone else. "You okay?" She nods, but I can see how panicked she is. "Don't worry, i-" I was about to say, _It won't be you, _but I can't make that promise. There is one I can make, though. "I'll volunteer for you if you get picked." Tears brim in her eyes, and she throws her arms around me. When the Mayor starts his speech, I untangle myself from her and go to my section.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" Her orange corkscrew curls bounce as she walks merrily for the girl's ball. Inside it, there are sixty slips of paper that cannot be picked. I glance around nervously, and my gaze falls on three girls in the thirteen-year-old section. All blonde, all merchant kids. They are clinging to each other like they need the support. "And our female tribute is- Acacia Andalu!"

I choke back a sob as everyone turns to face me. I ball my hands into fists and try to look strong as I make my way to the stage, but it doesn't work. Tears start to leak out the corner of my eyes, no matter how hard I try to suppress them. I turn to face the crowd, and I see my sister, horror- stricken, in the sixteen-year-old section.

"And our male tribute is- Tai Morillo!" I stare at him with blank eyes. Through the tears, I see that he is the one who got mad at me for banging into him.

I feel a small sense of vindictive pleasure that he is going to death with me.

Tai Morrilo, 15, POV:

I drag my hands across my face, pulling the sides down so I have a grotesque face, like the Capitol citizens. I am even more tired than I usually am, since I wasn't able to sleep at all last night. The nightmares about the Hunger Games kept me awake.

On the outside, I may seem like a tough person. The one who had to drop out of school at the age of fourteen to support his huge family. The one who seems to have no emotions. But on the inside, I am really just a depressed child who is afraid of being in the Hunger Games. But I can't let anyone know that.

I'm not used to being up so early but not having to go to work. Usually, at this time, I would be heading out to the mines, pickaxe in hand and helmet on head. But today, I am supposed to get primped up and penned up in a Square, where a fate that is far worse than being in the mines awaits.

I walk around the room, waking the others by tapping their shoulders. "Mai," she sits up and stretches, "Lai," she just ignores me, but I know she heard me, "Kai." When I reach for where his body should be, I find nothing but empty blankets. He must be up already. Surprising. I thought I was the only one up.

A few moments later, the kitchen is filled with the sound of sizzling food and the smell of dough cakes. My mouth waters. Since we get up so early, we usually only have a meager breakfast of grain. But today, as horrid as it is, is considered a holiday, and you might as well take advantage of being able to sleep in and have a good breakfast.

"Where's Kai?" I ask my Mother.

"He went out to... run some errands." she edges around the question, and she looks nervous. My eyes narrow. Kai went out to bring some food to _him_, I know it. He doesn't deserve the food, and he sure as hell doesn't deserve a Mother like ours. But she will always love him, no matter if he left and only visits when he needs money.

"You're giving food to him?" I spit out. She flinches and tears form in her eyes, but she doesn't defend herself. I don't care. Rai ditched us so he wouldn't have to take care of us, and he's rewarded for it. It makes me sick. "Whatever. I'll just go." I storm out of the room, leaving my Mother standing at the griddle.

I don't even bother getting dressed in something fancy. Getting dressed up shows support for the Capitol, and I do not support them and their sadistic Games. I'm one of the first people to the Square, but my feet follow a new path when I see a familiar figure coming toward me.

"Kai!" he turns before he realizes it's me, then he has no choice but to come over.

"Yeah?" he looks defeated, such a strange expression for a fourteen-year-old.

"Did you bring food to Rai?" he doesn't say anything, just nods.

"Of course." I glare at the place where I know his house is. I purposely avoid that section of town so I don't do anything drastic. "I'm going to sign in." I go over to a shorter line and wait for my turn.

The Peacekeeper who pricks my finger has red hair. A small red-haired child plays by his feet. The chubby toddler reaches up, knocking the book over. "Darius!" The Peacekeeper exclaims, slapping at the small boy's hand. Darius whimpers. I glare at the Peacekeeper. I don't like people who abuse their family.

I turn away from the Peacekeepers and start for my section. As soon as I take two steps, though, some klutzy girl bumps into me. I step back and my side bangs into the table, sending a sharp pain up my side. " Walk much?" I scowl at her.

Her face turns beet red, and she looks down. "Sorry." I just huff out a sigh and walk away, shaking my head. Some people think they can just run around wherever they want, and it's irritating. I rub my side, which feels sore. No doubt it will end up bruising because of her.

Our mayor, an elderly man, says the speech in a tired voice. After forty-eight years, we only have one Victor to speak of, and the future isn't looking too bright for District Twelve. Part of the problem is that all the weak Seam kids get chosen, and they have absolutely no experience with weapons. I, on the other hand, am wicked with a pickaxe.

A bubbly woman steps up to the stage. She's been the escort for as long as I remember, and it's scary how she doesn't seem to age. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" Some kid in the thirteen-year-old section snorts. He has curly hair, and he seems very sarcastic. Our escort just clears her throat and moves on. She reaches out a manicured hand and plucks an unlucky name. "And our female tribute is- Acacia Andalu!"

My eyes scan the crowd for the girl. She steps up from the eighteen year old section, and I realize with a jolt that I recognize her. She's the one who bumped into me earlier, the one I scolded. I feel bad, but at least it's no one from _my_ family.

Tears are escaping her eyes, but at least she's not choking. Our escort just moves on. A collective breath is drawn when her hand rests on the boy's name. "And our male tribute is- Tai Morrilo."

The tremors start down my body and make their way down my arms to my hands. There is a sickening feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, and I think I actually might throw up. My heart pounds and I start to feel lightheaded, but I think I can walk. I make my way to the stage, trying to hold my meager breakfast down.

Our escort beams at us and tells us to shake hands. Up close, I can see that she has orange eyeliner to match her pumpkin hair. Disgusting.

I look out at the district I was born in, the poorest and most unpopular district.

The district my stiff body will return to.

Acacia Andalu, 18, POV:

I walk into the Justice Building, glad to hide my face from the cameras. I'm frustrated at myself for crying, but I can't make the tears stop coming. I wipe at my eyes angrily, but more just replace the ones I wiped away.

Waiting in the room in torture. Everything seems too stuffy, like there is too much nice furniture in a small space. I clutch at my head, waiting for this nightmare to be over. This was my last Reaping! All the the things I've planned to do, gone...

Quillin runs in, and she is sobbing. We may resort to jokes for comfort, but this is something else entirely. "You c-can't leave me," she pleads, like I have a choice. If I did, I would stay here. We would be moving out of that pigsty tonight and starting fresh, away from our abusive father. But now I need to leave her behind, to fend for herself. The thought makes me choke.

"You know I wouldn't if I could stay," I stroke her long brown hair, so like mine.

She pulls back. "Maybe- Maybe you can win." she says.

A little giggle bursts through my lips. I have this strange thing about me- often, when I am in an awkward situation, I laugh. Not a loud and hearty laugh, more like the "Hehehe" that escapes my lips now.

"What?" she says. I can see the desperation in her eyes. Desperation makes people say crazy things. I wish I could live and come home and bring her a new life, I really do. And maybe I could, if I'd trained or I knew how to use a weapon. Sure, I'm eighteen, but the Careers are way bigger than me.

"Listen. If he hits you, even once, I want you to get away from there. You run and hide somewhere, you hear?" She nods, her eyes sad. I can't stand the thought of leaving her alone with him, but I have no other options. With no mother and no other family, I'm just going to have to trust her.

The Peacekeepers come in, and I clutch at Quillin. "Please!" The strangled cry escapes my lips. The youngest one, who seems to only be about twenty, hesitates. This must be his first year. "Please, she's my only family and I have no other visitors! Just give me a minute!" I beg, and he stops, looking torn.

"What are you doing, Cray? Come on!" The other shouts at him. He is quite handsome, with brown hair and a sharp nose.

He snaps out of his trance. "Just... give them a minute."

"I love you Quillin so so so much." I hug her, breathing her scent one last time. The Peacekeepers, looking annoyed, literally have to yank her off of me. Quillin sobs, and Cray puts his arm around her.

"Shhh, shhh." He murmurs. The last sight I see of my sister is her, with a Peacekeeper's arm around her.

At least if I can't be safe, she can.

Tai Morrilo, 15, POV:

I'm still shaking like a leaf, and I feel like the blood has been drained from my face. "You alright?" It's the Peacekeeper that that signed me in earlier. The one that slapped the small boy's hand.

"It's none of your business." My voice is cold, and fire lights up behind the man's eyes. I know he would love to punch me, but he can't.

I must look bad. I act like this big tough guy, but really, I'm not. It's just an act, that hard outer shell I put up for the world to see.

My parents come in first. "Tai!" she clutches at my face, her eyes bulging so wide they seem to overflow from their sockets.

"I love you," I say as gently as I can, "But you need to understand something." I take a deep breath. "You need to take care of the others. Don't let me cause you so much pain, okay? Or Rai. You need to push through." She was devastated when Rai left us, and that was only for a house down the road. Imagine what a separation like this would do to her. A permanent separation.

"I can't," she moans, closing her eyes. I can't imagine the pain of losing a child, but I can feel the pain of losing my Mother. It feels like someone is beating my heart with an axe while I'm still alive.

"Dad," I look hard into his eyes, "I love you. Take care of them." He nods, and I can see the pain in his eyes too.

The Peacekeepers come, and my Mother doesn't let go of me. "Nooooo, noooo." she moans, just above a whisper.

"Come on, Dusk," My Father pulls her along, and she looks like she is about to faint. If I look half as bad as her, I must look awful. I bite my lip to keep the tears from spilling.

Mai, Lai, and Kai come in next. Mai and Lai are crying, and Kai seems frozen in shock. Now he will have to go to work in the mines to support the family, since he is the oldest one. He'll drop out of school at age fourteen, like me. I feel sorry for him. I took the k=job so he wouldn't have to, but now he will need to, otherwise they will starve.

"Tai," Kai says, "I know you can win. You're probably the strongest tribute we've had in years." His tone isn't harsh or pleading, just a monotone, like he's too shocked to put any emotion into it. "You can use a pickaxe. You are smart, and you are brave."

"I'm sorry, Kai." I hug them each, tightly. I get lost in all the memories of being with them. Mai starts hyperventilating, and Lai just clutches at her head. This will be the second older brother they've lost.

The Peacekeepers take them away. I have no other visitors. Not surprising, since I don't have any friends. I have no time for friends. And as for Rai- it's a good thing he decided not to show his face.

It wouldn't be good for one of the Capitol's precious tributes to get into a fight.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, that's the last of the Reapings! Thank God! I am really tired of them, and you can probably see it in my writing... they all blend together after a while. The next chapter will be a Reaping Recap with Barbor Klutch. I will also be telling you guys how I'm writing the Capitol chapters. In the mean time, who's your favorite character? Who do you think is most likely to win? Your answer doesn't affect my choice, but it's nice to know... And I never quite figured out whether or not to capitalize certain words, so I just switched on and off, if you haven't noticed... yeah. **


	14. Reaping Recap

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: These are your words to describe the tributes, maybe a little cut down. I put in information that the Capitol could get with just the Reaping, but not so much that it would bore you to tears. I also put History in there because there's some stuff you need to know about them. P/M me anyone you'd like to be in an alliance with, but it has to be mutual and REALISTIC! Just a refresher for you.** **This chapter is boring and required absolutely no writing talent on my part, so feel free to skip to the bottom if you wish. But PLEASE answer the questions; they are there for a reason.**

Barbor sat back in his chair as his plasma screen went off with a click. Right now, the tributes were being herded onto trains and taken to the Capitol. In just a week, his Games were scheduled to start. It was both a cause for both relief and tension; relief, because the Games were just around the corner, and tension, because this was his second chance. There were no third chances.

The doors to his office opened, and Barbella, his assistant and fellow Gamemaker, strode in. She handed him a clipboard. Barbor smiled. The technology in the Capitol really was amazing- It probably took about five seconds for all of these papers to print out. On these pieces of paper were the twenty-four most important things to him right now: the tributes. He flipped back the first page and read over everything.

DISTRICT ONE: LUXURY

_Haliun Gritther_

14

M.

**Appearance: **Tall, (about 6'5'') he has brown hair and blue eyes and is very muscular (like regular muscular not crazy wrestler muscular.)

**Family: **A wealthy mom and dad who both try to spend time with him but have a lot of work to do. He doesn't have any siblings but he has a cousin and aunt in District Four.

**History: **He grew up like most kids. But when he was 11, he brokeRory's arm, and it got put on his criminal record.

Volunteer

_Rika Tiell _

17

F.

**Appearance: **Silky chestnut hair at her shoulders with red highlights, and hazel green eyes, tanned, slender figure, but average height.

**Family: **She's an only child, and both her parents are with her- normal stuff.

**History: **She spent her whole life training for the Games, and she doesn't like it, but she doesn't go against her parents and she admits to herself that the training has in fact been quite useful.

Volunteer

DISTRICT TWO: MASONRY

_Talon Striker_

18

M.

**Appearance: **Tall, strong built. He has curly dark brown hair that comes to his eyebrows, cute dimples when he smiles, and crystal blue eyes. Good looking guy.

**Family: **6 siblings (older sister Thystle was killed in the 46th Hunger Games by the District One Girl, who also won that year) Parents are lowly miners that train their kids to enter the Games.

**History: **Talon is one of five siblings, his parents are banking on one of thir children becoming a Victor so they can escape the poverty of the mines.

Volunteer

_Cecilla Evans_

16

F.

**Appearance: **She has long, wavy, golden-blonde hair and light green eyes.

**Family: **she has a mother named Violet Ebans, a father named Daniel Evans, and a younger sister named Annabelle Evans.

**History: **Her parents always favored Cecilla. They believed that she had a better chance of winning because her breathtaking good looks would get her many sponsors and she was physically stronger than Annabelle. Their parents made them promise that if one of them got Reaped for the Hunger Games they wouldn't volunteer, but they could volunteer for anyone else.

Volunteer

DISTRICT THREE: ELECTRONICS

_Samuel Sellers_

16

M.

**Appearance: **He has dark red hair, and freckles. His eyes are dark brown. He is semi-muscular and about 6'1''.

**Family: **His mom is very sick, and his brother has to take care of her while she is in the Games

**History: **He was born in District Three. His dad died in an electronics fire. His mom became very ill afterwards, and almost tried to kill herself. He lives with her, but his aunt is there to watch over if needed.

Reaped

_Ophlidia Haley Aulis_

13

F.

**Appearance: **She is very small, about 4'6''. She has brown hair that reaches her shoulders. She has one eye that is deep blue and one eye that is blue-green.

**Family: **She has a mom and a dad and is the only child they have.

**History: **She was born premature and grew very slowly. She also has dyslexia and ADHD, both of which got fixed. On her first Reaping, she was picked, but Candace volunteered and died in the Games.

Volunteer

DISTRICT FOUR: FISHING

_Sven Haphesby_

16

M.

**Appearance: **Ear length blonde hair, hazel eyes, surfer body.

**Family: **He lives alone with his drunk father, Fallis. He also has an older brother who moved out of the house a while ago.

**History: **When he was five, his mother died. Since then, he has dedicated his life to making his Father proud.

Reaped

_Hunter Blackthorne_

17

F.

**Appearance: **chestnut hair at her shoulders, golden lowlights, hazel-green eyes that almost change color in the light. She's average height for her age, slender physique, pale.

**Family: **Only child, parents train her like there's no tomorrow. She hates it, but she does it anyway because they hit her if she doesn't.

**History: **Hunter's parents went crazy when her older brother was Reaped and died in the Games when she was a baby, so they trained her like crazy so to guarantee her arrival home when it happens.

Reaped

DISTRICT FIVE: POWER

_Marck Seymour_

12

M.

**Appearance: **4'8, light brown hair that goes a little past his ears, He has brown eyes. He is a little skinny.

**Family: **He has a mom and a dad and an older sister who is, like most older siblings, a little mean to the younger one.

**History: **He grew up like every other kid and lived his life like most other kids. The only difference is that he got Reaped. Marck is the typical kid with his whole life ahead of

_Aria Franks_

18

F.

**Appearance: **Aria has shoulder-length red hair and piercing green eyes. She has freckles and stands average height, and she has a scar going from her shoulder to her wrist from the accident that killed her brother.

**Family: **Mom- Lyla Franks, Dad- Cyrik Franks, Sister- Lizabeth Franks, 23, Brother, deceased- Geo Franks (would be 20), Brother- Jarvis, 14, Sister,-Miana, 10, Niece- Arabella, 4, daughter of Lizabeth

**History: **Her dad never wanted her; he wanted a boy, so they were never close. But when she was eleven, she and her brother Geo went into the woods, and there was an accident that ended in Geo's death, and her father blamed her, making their relationship completely toxic. Her mother, tries to help, but often shrinks back, to afraid to do anything, which is why Aria and her aren't close either

Reaped

DISTRICT SIX: TRANSPORTATION

_Folton Gray_

14

M.

**Appearance: **Folton is small, with black hair, pale skin, and dark brown eyes. He has enough food to eat, so he isn't super-thin.

**Family: **His Father won the Games when he was thirteen by using the Capitol's mutts against them; it was the shortest Games ever. Both siblings, Falia and Asher, were Reaped at age thirteen and died in the Games. His Mother is severely depressed from all of her children being in the Games.

**History: **He grew up in a house in Victor's Village. It was the perfect life, except that the President hates them. He has had to watch both of his siblings die in the Games.

Reaped

_Valentina Morocco_

16

F.

**Appearance: **Very pretty: Long brown hair and wide chocolate eyes, with tan skin. She is tall and thin, and has white teeth

**Family: **Father: Not very handsome but very loving, Mother: Very beautiful and it hurts to see Valentina in the Games, Sister, Valkerie, 11: Not very "good-looking" but she is Valentina's best friend.

**History: **Valentina's family struggles to make ends meet; they barely get by. However, they are optimists, and they keep themselves happy by singing around the house. She goes to school, and she is good in her studies, but everyone knows she is a leader, not a follower, and she speaks her mind.

Reaped

DISTRICT SEVEN: LUMBER

_Pip Curry_

15

M.

**Appearance: **Thick brown hair with sun-kissed highlights, Big blue eyes that makes him 5x more attractive, average muscles, 6' feet tall, broad shoulders, and has freckled but tan skin. He is very attractive

**Family: **His Mother is the town jeweler, so he knows much about gems. His father is the local electrician, and they are the epitome of true love, which gives Pip his softer side. His brother, Hayden, was killed by a rabid dog, but his friend survived.

**History: **He has lived a comfortable life and enjoys his visits from Basil, who he finds very interesting but is afraid to talk to, especially because she is of a lower class and it would be frowned upon.

Reaped

_Basil Pierce_

14

F.

**Appearance: **Long black hair that falls in waves past her shoulders, light green eyes, olive skin, hollow cheeks, defined eyebrows, very skinny, and is very tall almost 5' 10. She is fairly attractive but not so much that boys admire her all day

**Family: **They were fairly rich before her father died and they had to move to the poorer section. She has a 13-year-old sister who is a little mad after watching her best friend killed by a rabid dog. Clovis, is just 7 and is not allowed to watch the Games in case they scar him.

**History: **Basil is an underdog, but she does have her smarts. She is a wonderful strategist and leader, and she has planned her entire strategy in almost every scenario. She is not a kind-looking person, but she tries to make people feel comfortable around her by cracking jokes.

Volunteer

DISTRICT EIGHT: TEXTILES

_Corduroy Davis_

17

M.

**Appearance: **Tall 6'1, he has shaggy dark hair that falls in front of his hazel green eyes. (Asian eyes) Almond eyes/Slanted eyes. Light skin. Fit build.

**Family: **Little sister- Polly-Ester 13, Father/Mother both work in the peacekeeper uniform factory. Father Blonde hair, green eyes. Mother jet black hair, with brown (Asian eyes).**History: **Being that his family lives in District 8, there are little options for scavenging for food, resulting in Roy taking out extra tessera to support his family. His father hates the capitol and has instilled the same hatred in Roy. His family lives in a rundown

Kiara Siebel

17

F.

**Appearance: **She is about 5'3'', with a curvy figure, dark hair, brown eyes, freckles, and a tan.

**Family: **Mother, Father, and a younger brother named Kieran.

**History: **She has to work in the factories after school, but since her Mom is a teacher, she gets extra school lessons. She loves nature, but the fence around her district prevents her from singing with the Mockingjays. She is always asking questions.

Reaped

DISTRICT NINE: GRAIN

_Clay Watson_

15

M.

**Appearance: **Sandy blonde hair and coal-black eyes. He is tall for his age and rather scary-looking, even though he isn't very muscular.

**Family: **His mother is very young and innocent, and his father is almost twice her age and can't wait to get rid of Clay, since he views him as a "bad seed." He has no siblings.

**History: **Clay deals in the black-marketing business. He buys stuff from Guy, a criminal, and he knows he will end up like that too. He is very condescending, and often steals stuff from his parents.

Reaped

_Taffy Sweedums_

16

F.

**Appearance: **Frizzy golden blonde hair usually worn in a ponytail, brown eyes, white skin covered in freckles. She is pudgy and not very attractive

**Family: **Father hardly pays attention to her, Mother hardly notices her, Licorich(19) is going to inherit the family business, Lolli(20) is getting married to a respectable man in town- she is beautiful.

**History: **Her parents are the District sweetshop

DISTRICT TEN: LIVESTOCK

_Esther Glade_

12

M.

**Appearance: **Dark skin, dark brown eyes, and fuzzy brown hair. He has bruises on his legs from falling in the woods. (a lot.) He is small and skinny.

**Family: **Esther's Dad died, and his Mom must do all the work. He takes good care of his little brother, Woody, who is so cute and innocent, though he can be a bit of a pain.

**History: **He lives in a small house in the District and must take care of his little brother. It is his very first Reaping, ad he doesn't think he'll get picked.

Reaped

_Lindia Elmswood_

14

F.

**Appearance: **Silky blonde hair, pretty, almond-shaped green eyes, pale skin, freckles. She is thin, but she has enough to eat.

**Family: **Father: balding man, Town Mayor, Mother: Blonde hair, very emotional, no siblings.

**History: **Her father is the mayor, so she has lived a comfortable life with no worries and no tesserae, that is, until she was Reaped

**Reaped**

DISTRICT ELEVEN: AGRICULTURE

_Cobalt Denali_

18

M.

**Appearance: **short red brown hair (about an inche long with a wind blow style to it), blue eyes, 5'10, lean, light skin, strong features, straight nose

**Family: **Father- Gregory- Kind hearted but firm, Mother- Leah- Kind, but meaner than dad- Twin siblings- boy- Fraye, a bit of a whiner, girl- Carnation, a bit of a priss, both are sweet children.

**History: **Family is poor, but not as bad off as some people. Colbalt and his father are both strong and healthy, so they're able to work in the district's trade

Reaped

_Rosemary Greene_

16

F.

**Appearance: **She has long, wavy, brown hair and one blue eye and one green eye. She is tall, graceful, and thin. She also has a tan.

**Family: **Mother (Charlotte Greene), Father (Clayton Greene), Brother (Haden Greene, 14 ), Sister ( Lana Greene, 13), Sister ( Luna Greene, 13), Sister (Rain Greene, 15), and Brother (Harry Greene, 11). Lana and Luna are twins. Her family is close knit.

**History: **She has grown up going from home to school to the fields and home again since she was able to pull a vegetable from the ground. The little free time she has is split between reading and spending time with her family and her friend.

Reaped

DISTRICT TWELVE: MINING

_Tai Morrilo_

15

M.

**Appearance: **very lean, border line skinny, has muscle from working in the mines but not a lot. Black hair, grey blue eyes, straight nose, narrowed brows, about 5"10. Pale.

**Family: **Has a dad- Cole, and a mom- Dusk. He has thee younger siblings and one older one. Mai- a girl, Lai- another girl, and Kai- a boy. His older brother left them so he wouldn't have to support anyone but himself.

**History: **He comes from apoor family. His whole life seems like one long routine.

Reaped

_Acacia Andalu_

18

F.

**Appearance: **Dark brown hair, brown eyes, and tan skin. Straight nose, pretty mouth, and lean at about 5'2

**Family: **mom died from lung cancer. Dad is an abusive drunk. She hides the fact that he hurts her and her sister with her humorous demeanor. Sisters name is Quillin. She'ss shy and frail- but two years younger than Acacia.

**History: **Mom died- Not much else.

Reaped

Barbor handed the clipboard back to Barbella. "Good, very good." Barbor already knew who was going to win. The Games were much simpler before: no rigged Reapings, no Gamemakers, no Chariot Rides. All it was was weapons and television. Now, of course, it was usually able to be determined who would win. a nice, good candidate who was easily controllable. Now and again, if course, the tributes do take you by surprise. Which was why he couldn't let let a... difficult tribute win again.

Let the 49th Hunger Games begin.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, yes, very boring. But here is how I THINK the next few chapters will go.**

**Train Rides- Very short blurbs, told in third-person because I tend to get carried away in first-person. I don't know if I am doing stylist/mentor chapters yet, I'll just write them as I go.**

**Chariot Rides- Either in third-person or a potential sponsor. Which is better? (PLEASE give me some chariot outfit ideas, as I want to explain them in detail!)**

**Training: 8 POVs per chapter, covering each tribute on one of the days.**

**Gamemaker Sessions: Told by Barbor, with a short paragraph for each. IT IS OF THE UTMOST URGENCY THAT YOU P/M ME WHAT YOUR TRIBUTE DOES FOR THE GAMEMAKERS! Do not review, because that is like telling others your strengths.**

**Interviews: Either Caesar's POV or third person, because I want to be able to show the tribute's reactions from the outside.**

**Games: Shifting in and out of POVs, perhaps a chapter or two about the dead tribute's families and how they are coping.**

**Final Eight Interviews of the Families: Told as if you are watching TV**

**Thanks for reading these very long notes. Anyway, I'll be updating again this weekend, since this wasn't a real "chapter."**


	15. The Train Rides: Part One

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanted to fit every train ride into one chapter, so I wrote short blurbs and interactions between the tributes. I wrote in third person because I tend to get carried away when I write in first person, like the Reapings. I tried to cut down some writing, and my District One Reapings were only 2,158 words. I started getting carried away, and my District 11 Reapings were 3,737 words. I feel kind of bad, so the District One training POVs will probably be longer than the other tribute's... Oh, and by the way, people seem to keep calling the District Two female tribute Cecilia, but it's CECILLA. And Clay Watson is 15, I accidentally wrote 14 on one of his POVs. I kept dreading writing this chapter, since this is the first character interactions, but I actually kind of like it! I changed it around with each District so it wasn't the same thing over and over again.**

District One: Rika Tiell, 17; Haliun Gritther, 14

Rika sat looking out the window of the train, watching everything flash by. _Maybe it wasn't the right decision to volunteer for the Games_, she thought. But it was too late now.

Haliun looked relaxed, sprawled out across the couch. _I wonder how Laurane is doing right now. _He pushed the thought from his mind. It was only a temporary separation, anyway. "Why did you volunteer?" he asked to break the ice.

Rika looked over at him suspiciously. She seemed to be going over something. Finally, she answered, "Because my parents made me. You?"

Haliun shrugged. "Just figured the time was right."

Rika still looked skeptical. "Fourteen's young to volunteer."

"What? You don't think I have what it takes to win?" Haliun said heatedly.

"Hey, I didn't say that. I just said it's young. People usually wait a few years, you know?"

Haliun settled back against the cushions, a little disgruntled. "Yeah, that's what people keep saying." It was true. His volunteering had been on a whim, and perhaps he should have waited.

The doors opened, and a man and a woman walked in, both in their mid-twenties. They sat down, looking comfortable, and looked them over.

"How old are you?" Glint, Haliun's mentor, asked.

"Fourteen." Haliun answered, scowling.

Glints eyebrows shot up. "Fourteen? How tall are you?"

"Six feet." Haliun said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a self-satisfied smirk.

"That's... impressive." Glint said, eyes roaming over him.

Caramel, Rika's mentor, flipped on the TV. "Let's just see who the other Careers are." They all focused on the TV.

The boy from Two looked gigantic. The name, _Talon Striker_, seemed to fit the bill. Rika felt like she knew the name from somewhere... perhaps there was a Victor in the family? The face looked familiar, too, like another tribute she had seen before...

Haliun was unimpressed with his competition. Even the eighteen-year-olds weren't much taller than him, and there were a bunch of wimps that wouldn't make it past the bloodbath.

"Looks like there will be a strong Career pack this year." Caramel said.

Rika nodded, but she still felt uneasy about Talon. Something about him seemed familiar, and something told her that she did not want to end up alone with him.

District Two: Cecilla Evans, 16; Talon Striker, 18

"So, Talon," Cecilla flipped her blonde hair and batted her green eyes at him.

"Yeah?" he grunted looking out the window and not paying attention to her.

Cecilla cleared her throat, then said through gritted teeth, "Do you want to lead the Career pack with me?"

At this Talon's eyes narrowed. _With_ her? He was planning on taking control early, then kill off the District One tributes. "Sure." He shrugged, and Cecilla smiled, flashing her perfectly white teeth at him. They stared at each other for a few minutes, sizing each other up.

Their mentors walked in then. Talon's mentor would be Brutus, the last District Two winner before their losing streak. Cecilla's was Lyme, who won the year just before Brutus. "Let's watch the Reapings, shall we? Then we can split up and talk about your strengths." Brutus looked them over, and both tributes nodded. Brutus flipped on the TV, and the anthem played.

District One was first. Talon sucked in a breath when the girl was Reaped. _It can't be just a coincidence, can it? _Talon thought as he watched the girl. She had the exact same chestnut hair and skin tone as the girl that killed his sister. His hands clenched into fists. It's not this girl's fault really; she just had the misfortune of looking like that girl. It would be easy to take revenge on her.

Cecilla watched carefully when she was Reaped. She did look a little stiff, but other than that, her volunteering was perfect! Now, all she needed to do was stun the audience with a perfect score and gorgeous outfit and she would become a celebrity for sure!

The rest of the Reapings were dull, although Cecilla did laugh when the volunteer from Three stepped up. _She will be dead in the first two seconds, _Cecilla thought.

Lyme flipped off the TV. "What do you think?" she asked, her face hard.

"What do I think? I think this will be easy!" Cecilla exclaimed, and Talon smirked.

"Wrong." Lyme said, to Cecilla's surprise. "Never underestimate the other tributes. This is why we haven't won in a long time." Cecilla looked taken aback.

"You need to be strong mentally as well as physically. Lyme and I have a new strategy for you two. It's not just a game." The four bent their heads together, Cecilla and Talon listening intently. When the discussion was over, they smiled, exchanging a look.

This year was going to be good.

District Three: Ophlidia "Haley" Aulis, 13; Samuel Sellers, 16

Ophlidia sat on one of the chairs by the window, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Samuel stood by the doors, watching her. He felt bad for her. _Why would such a small girl volunteer? _he wondered.

He watched her for several more moments. She seemed to be a very shy and scared girl, someone easily manipulated. A slow smile started to spread across his face. He had always had good people skills. It would be easy to talk to her and get her to open up. And the more open she was, the easier she would be to kill.

"Hello," Samuel said, smiling easily and sliding into the chair across from her, trying to make her feel comfortable.

"Hi," she said, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands.

"Ohlidia, is it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side questioningly, even though he already knew her name.

"Haley," she corrected automatically, her voice thick, "I usually have people call me Haley."

Samuel hid his smile. This would be too easy. "Alright, Haley. I was just wondering- Why would such a small girl volunteer?" he asked innocently.

"Well, my friend was Reaped," she said, but then, feeling she should explain more, she continued, "You see, I was reaped last year, but my friend volunteered to save me. And she died. So when my other friend was reaped, I had to volunteer." She was a little embarrassed that he would think she was stupid, but what he said surprised her.

"Wow. That was very brave. I would never have been able to do that." Samuel said, widening his eyes.

The next words out of her mouth were too good to be true. "Really? I've never been called brave before. In fact, I'm kind of a wimp."

"Well, _I _don't think so." Ophlidia actually smiled a little.

Samuel was thrilled. This was all part of his new plan: Make everyone feel comfortable around him, then kill them.

Electrode and Spark walked in then, and Ophlidia sat up straight, surprised to find out that she had slowly been leaning toward Samuel. He was so nice to her, not like many of the others in her District.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Electrode asked, looking between the two.

"Nope," Sam stood up, walked over to Electrode, and shook his hand earnestly. "Nice to meet you. I saw your Games a few years back, and your trap was simply... mind-blowing. Perhaps you can teach it to me? In private." Samuel nodded towards Ophlidia meaningfully.

"Uh, sure." Electrode said, a little confused. He walked back out of the room, Samuel trailing behind.

Spark took the seat Samuel had occupied just moments before. "What were you two talking about?" she asked, looking into Ophlidia's eyes.

"He said I was brave." The corner of her mouth picked up a little.

That one compliment had helped her more than Samuel could ever understand- If he believed she was brave, that was all she needed to win.

District Four: Hunter Blackthorne, 17; Sven Haphesby, 16

Hunter sat on the couch, putting her legs up on it so Sven couldn't sit with her. Sven noticed this and sat lightly on the chair across from her. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat. "So, I'm Sven."

Hunter rolled her eyes. "Obviously." She didn't say anything else, and Sven clapped his hands together, looking around. Several moments later, he worked up the courage to talk to her again.

"So I feel like we got off on the wrong foot." he started.

"We've never even talked to each other." she said, staring at him, hard.

"Ok, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be." he said, mostly to himself.

"What's a lot harder than you thought it would be?" she asked, her sharp eyes training on him.

"Oh, you know, aligning with you." he said sheepishly, surprised that she had heard him.

"Aligning with me?" she looked him over. "Maybe. That's the best answer you'll get." Hunter said. She seemed hard and uncaring, but deep down, she knew she would align with him. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew she would need an alliance. _And besides, it will be a lot easier to kill them if they are all close by. _She thought.

Their mentors came in then. Sven's mentor would be Maggs, a middle-aged woman who won in one of the earliest Games. Hunter's mentor was Aqua, whose looks were legendary in the Capitol. Hunter hated her instantly.

Aqua seemed to share the feeling. "So you are the famous Hunter Blackthorne, best archer in all of District Four?" she sneered, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Yes. I hear you're quite good yourself." Hunter replied, fighting to keep her voice even. Aqua was also an archer, and even she was awed by Hunter's skill, although she would never admit it.

"Thanks." she smiled sweetly, but her eyes were like ice. "Maybe I can teach you some techniques."

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass. I doubt there's any technique that I don't already know." Aqua's nostrils flared and she stood up abruptly.

Maggs threw her arm out and shot a warning glance at Aqua. "Perhaps we should watch the Reapings."

Aqua smiled through gritted teeth and sat down slowly. "Perhaps." But she didn't take her eyes off Hunter.

Sven watched the whole exchange through wide eyes. Hunter sure had a lot of guts.

And she was someone he definitely wanted on his side.

District Five: Aria Franks, 18; Marck Seymour, 12

Marck sat on the couch, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. He was holding something in his hand, but Aria couldn't find a name for it. It was shiny and reflective on one side, silver on the other. There was a faded symbol of what looked like an apple on the silver side.

"What is that?" Aria asked, sitting on the chair across from the couch.

"What?" he asked, his voice thick with tears.

"That." Aria nodded at the strange contraption, and Marck looked down at it.

"I don't know." he said, much to Aria's disappointment. He gave more of an explanation. "My sister gave it to me. It was her good luck charm." he broke off then, stroking the silver surface, seemingly lost in thoughts about his sister. _Some good luck charm_, Aria thought absentmindedly, watching the small boy. He seemed so fragile, too small to be in the Games.

Marck's mentor strode in then. Marck slid his token into his pocket and Aria sat up straighter, wondering where her mentor was. Neither knew what to do.

The man, who seemed to be about thirty, sat down and looked into Marck's eyes, hard. He was surprised by the intensity. "Do you know what happened to your sister in the Justice Building?"

Marck's eyes widened in fear. Aria looked between the two, confused. _What had happened? _She wanted to ask, but she was afraid to at the same time.

"Is she-" Marck started, looking tortured. He was unable to finish the question.

"I don't know." Jander, the mentor, sat back, looking troubled. "There was a disturbance, and when I tried to find out what it was, they shooed me onto the train."

"Oh no." Marck whispered, looking sick.

"Wait, what is going on?" Aria asked, looking from Jander to Marck to Jander again.

"Lesson Number One: Be very careful what you say in range of the Capitol." Jander said.

Penelope, Aria's mentor, came in then, but from the back door. "Sorry about that." she said, sitting beside Jander. She threw him a meaningful look and said, "I'll need to see you later. There is a problem we need to discuss..." She trailed off and looked at the two tributes, then changed the subject. "Now. Let's discuss your strategies."

"Here?" Aria asked, incredulous. Even though Marck wasn't really a threat and she wouldn't kill him anyway, she couldn't believe they would be discussing such matters in the open.

"Yes, here." Penelope said. "It is much better to have not only the advice of one, but two Victors. And you're going to need all the help you can get."

District Six: Valentina Morocco, 16; Folton Gray, 13

As soon as Folton entered the train, he started searching for his Father. He had no idea where he was going or what he was doing; all he knew was that he needed his father.

"Dad?" he called, running from compartment to compartment. "Dad? Dad!" The Avoxes stared at him, startled but unable to say anything to stop him. He just kept running.

He eventually found him: his Dad was in the last car of the train with Glace, the girl's mentor. "Dad!" He ran into his father's surprised arms and buried his face in his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of his father- musk and sweat, so familiar to him. "Dad, I'm scared." he whispered into his chest.

"I know, baby, I know." Destin rubbed his son's back and squeezed his eyes shut. It would have been better if he hadn't come home from those Games. This pain was,uch worse than the pain of death. But the Capitol would never have allowed him to take his life: They wanted to make an example of him. "Come on, let's go." He took his son's small hand in his own and started for the compartment with the TV.

Valentina was curled up on a chair, all alone, crying. She looked at Folton, who was holding hands with his Father, and she felt a stab of jealousy. _At least he'll have his Father until the final minutes, _she thought bitterly. She tried not to think of her Father, with his cheerful smile, the laugh that made everyone join in, the way he would always listen to her...

Glace limped in then, sniffling a little. She had gotten stabbed in the foot in her "Victory Fight" and had needed surgery to get it fixed, which had started her addiction to morphine. Even now, seven years later, she still ordered shipments of the drug. Valentina felt, if possible, even more miserable. How could she win with an addict as her coach?

Folton and his Father sat close together on the couch, and Glace sat on the chair opposite of Valentina.

"The Reapings will start any minute." Destin said, checking his watch. He flipped on the TV and the anthem played.

The Recap started with a short video about the might of the Capitol, and a few words from the President. Then it went to District One and showed all the Districts.

When the Recap was over, Destin flicked off the TV. "Well... I guess we should split up now." He got up and Folton trailed behind him.

Glace looked Valentina over very carefully. "Well, I don't think you'll have a problem getting sponsors." Glace said. "You have the looks: you just need to flaunt them."

Valentina looked at Glace. She looked like she must have once been very beautiful, but now she was starting to waste away from the drug she was addicted to. "I'll try." Valentina said, determined.

"No. You can't try. You have to do, because it is very hard to win without sponsors."

"Okay." said Valentina, surprised by her intensity. "I will."

Folton and Destin walked back to the compartment where they had been earlier and sat down. "What do you think of the others?" Destin asked, watching his son through careful eyes.

"I think... that there's no way I can beat them." Folton said, dejected.

"Don't say that. Sure, they have brawn, but you have something they don't have."

"What's that?" Folton asked.

"Me." He hugged his son tight to him, and they stayed like that for a long time.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. With finals, middle school graduation, my dance recital, my upcoming vacation, and class trips/dances, it's been hard to find time to write. Updates will be less frequent this month, but I have a pretty clear schedule for July. But I should have an update this weekend, because I only have to finish the District Eight and Ten Train Rides. And if you're story got deleted in the recent wipeout, I am sorry for you.**


	16. The Train Rides: Part Two

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah I don't have anything to say. Oh wait! I changed the title so it would sound more dramatic. I used it somewhere in this chapter and I was like hey- that sounds cool! It also inspired me... You'll see why soon. (Evil laugh.) SORRY 4blueeyes I CHANGED HER NAME I DON'T KNOW WHAT CAME OVER ME BUT SORRY!**

District Seven: Basil Pierce, 14; Pip Curry, 15

Basil sat on the plush couch and twirled her deer hide bracelet around her wrist, sniffling slightly. Pip sat awkwardly across from her. How was this possible? Just this morning, they had been at his parent's shop, discussing business, and now they were both headed for the Games. The Reapings flashed through his mind. "That was very brave of you," he blurted out. Basil looked up, perplexed. Pip cleared his throat, then continued in a normal tone of voice, "I mean, volunteering for your sister." He looked out the window, self-conscious.

"Thank you," Basil said, sincere. She bit her lip, wanting to say more, yet not knowing what to say at the same time. "I'm sorry... you know, about what happened." Pip nodded. This wasn't about the Reapings; this was about something that had happened five years ago.

Everybody knew about the accident that killed little Hayden Curry and left Twila Pierce mad. The two were simply walking up the fence when a rabid dog came and shook Hayden. Someone came with a gun eventually, but not before Hayden died. There was a special connection between the two now; almost like they were meant to be together.

"Yeah. They always say that time heals the heart. But all time does is give you more time to mourn." Pip said, looking own at his hands. Basil had the strangest urge to put her arms around him, but she resisted. This was no time to start feeling soft towards her competition.

Pip was lost in his own thoughts and grief, but deep down, he felt it was nice to know that he wasn't the only one who had changed that day. He wasn't the only one who had lost a sibling- even though Twila hadn't died.

Pip and Basil both jumped a little when the doors opened and their mentors came in. "Did we scare you?" the young man asked, a mischievous grin on his face. His hair stuck out at odd angles and his eyes here twinkling. Everyone remembered Barkley was quite legendary for stealing things and sneaking around. He looked like a very fun person. The woman, on the other hand, seemed stern.

"Focus! We need to watch the Reapings!" Sage said, turning on the TV.

Basil's heart plummeted when she saw all the tributes. Even some of the tributes that weren't from Career Districts were bigger than her. But she knew she could outrun them if it came to that.

When the District Seven Reapings came on, Basil could hardly watch. Seeing her sister collapse to the ground, screaming, was so painful she wished she could rip her ears off and tear her eyes out. It looked so much worse on camera than it had felt in the moment.

Pip watched Basil, who was staring in horror at the screen. He felt so bad for her, having to relive the worst moments of her life. He had the strangest urge to hug her, but he decided against it. If he touched her right now, she might hit him.

When the Reapings were over, there was a moment of stunned silence. Basil actually had wetness on her cheeks. "I-I have to go." she spluttered before running out of the room, leaving the others sitting behind, wondering what was going on.

District Eight: Kiara Siebel, 17; Corduroy "Roy" Davis, 17

Kiara looked around the train, analyzing everything, particularly the television. She had never seen one without a large box on the end; this one was flat. She wondered how it worked. After looking for several moments, she saw a tiny red dot in the corner, and her eyes narrowed. She had a suspicion of what it was, but she didn't voice it.

Corduroy stared out the window, even though District Eight was long gone. He missed Rayon with all of his heart. The weight was heavy on his chest. Everyone always said they were too young to know what true love was; but Corduroy knew that she was the girl who he would have ended up marrying- his soul mate.

"Who visited you?" Kiara asked abruptly.

"What?" Corduroy asked, lifting his head up. He was so lost in his thoughts it took him a moment to understand the question.

"Who visited you?" she asked slowly, as though he was slow.

Corduroy hesitated for a second. He didn't really want to tell her this; it was private information. But he gave in, since he might not even be alive much longer anyway. "Oh, you know, my parents and my sister, and Loom. And Rayon." he watched her reaction to this name carefully. He had been hesitant to say Rayon's name because he knew Kiara didn't like her.

Kiara nodded, pursing her lips. The look on his face and the slight hesitation before he mentioned Rayon was confirmation for her: he didn't know the whole story. _It's not _me _who doesn't like _her_, _she felt like screaming at him, _it's _her_ who doesn't like _me_. _Rayon had always been jealous of Kiara: Rayon was beautiful and smart. But Kiara had always been smarter, and jealousy could make a person ugly.

"Who came to visit you?" Corduroy asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

"What? Oh, just my family. And Madi and Lacey." By the look on his face, he was asking more because she had asked than out of general curiosity.

Just then, Woof and Tailor, the mentors came in the sliding doors. Naturally, Kiara wondered how motion could set off and open the doors within a span of seconds.

Woof and Tailor sat on the couch across from Kiara and Corduroy moved to join them. The mentors were all business as they observed the tributes. "I'll be honest with you," Woof said immediately, "We have been watching you for the last twenty minutes."

Corduroy looked shocked, but Kiara kept her calm expression. She had known what the red light meant from the moment she saw it. "You can always judge a person's character on what they do when no one's watching. A choice, per say- the tribute's choice." Tailor mused.

"A camera in the TV- very clever. A place to watch from where people watch." Kiara responded, smiling lightly.

Tailor smiled back. "Exactly. And from it's location..." she trailed off to let Kiara fill in the blank.

"You can see every corner in the room and no one would suspect a thing." Kiara was both awed by the thought process and pleased that she had figured it out.

Corduroy looked at Kiara, stunned. It didn't matter that she didn't like Rayon- he would team up with her to get back to Rayon.

District Nine: Taffy Sweedums, 16; Clay Watson, 15

Clay sat on one of the comfortable chairs, drumming his foot against the floor of the train. Taffy lay across the sofa, a cool rag on her forehead and a blanket draped over her. They sat there for a long time, neither saying anything: the only sound was the thudding of Clay's foot.

"Where are our mentors? Shouldn't they be here by now?" Taffy asked nervously, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger.

"Who knows? Maybe they died or something." Clay's eyes flashed when he said this, and he grinned evilly. Taffy gulped and turned, if possible, even paler. Clay took enjoyment from her fear, and he grinned even wider.

"R-Really?" Taffy stammered, unable to look away from Clay's coal black eyes.

"Yeah. Maybe the Capitol poisoned their food. Maybe they fell off the train and got crushed slowly and painfully." Taffy started breathing heavily. She was very afraid of Clay in this moment. Her heart started to pound and her palms started to sweat.

Just then their mentors walked in. Clay looked away from her and Taffy relaxed instantly, but there was still the ghost of fright in her eyes.

"What's going on?" Garnet, their escort, asked, looking from Clay to Taffy and back again.

"Nothing." Clay answered easily, relaxing into the chair cushions.

Garnet looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing more on the matter.

"It's a nice train." Clay said, looking around. Everything was just left unguarded-they weren't afraid anyone would try to steal anything.

"It's the newest model. It is quite nice." Garnet said, still suspicious.

The doors slid open and two people walked in. It was Delia, Taffy's mentor, and Claude, Clay's mentor. Garnet walked swiftly from the room without another word.

"Are you alright, Taffy?" Delia asked, looking at Taffy with more pity than actual concern.

_What a stupid question to ask_, Clay thought, smirking a little. "I'm fine." Taffy said, but she felt far from fine. This was the worst day of her life. She fainted _and _she was Reaped for the Hunger Games. Of course she wasn't fine!

"Are you Clay... _Watson?_" Claude asked, his lip curled in distaste.

"Yep, that's me." Clay responded, sneering. He knew Claude was one of his father's personal friends, which meant Claude probably hated Clay. "Oh, nice watch, by the way." Clay said, grinning evilly.

Claude tucked his watch under his fancy sleeve and narrowed his eyes at Clay. "I know you have a reputation for stealing things," Claude hissed between his teeth, "And I want to make it clear that _you are not to touch my stuff_, or you won't be getting any help from me."

"What? Me?" Clay asked innocently. He took pleasure from the way the old man's face turned red._ Who cares? I don't need his help. I'll show him that I can win these Games without his help. _"I'm leaving." He got up and winked at Taffy as he left the room, who gaped after him, shocked.

District Ten: Lindia Elmswood, 14; Esther Glade, 12

Lindia lay on the couch, sobbing. Esther sat on the other chair, sniffling. Neither said anything to the other. There was nothing to say, really. The twelve-year-old boy and the Mayor's daughter. The odds were not in favor of either of them getting Reaped, yet here they were, on their way to the Capitol.

And the odds were definitely not in favor of either of them winning.

"I-I-I want-t my Mo-o-o-om." Lindia cried, her breathing so shaky that every syllable was broken into several.

"I want to g-go home." Esther whined. He was so scared and so sad that he couldn't bear it.

Lux bounced into the room then, looking cheerful as anything. "Oh, cheer up! You're on your way to the Capitol! You'll just love it!"

This just made Lindia cry even harder. She didn't want to go to the Capitol. She didn't want to be in these Games. She wanted to be at home, with her parents, safe in the knowledge that she could never be reaped because she was the mayor's daughter.

"Can you just go, please?" Esther asked, looking up at Lux with distaste and fear.

The yellow-eyed man looked down at him in surprise. "Excuse me?" he asked icily, white eyebrows raised.

"I said could you please leave? I mean- I just want to be alone right now." Esther repeated, his voice small.

"Why certainly." Lux said, turning on his heel and marching out of the room. Once he was at the door, he stopped and turned, as if he just remembered something.. "And if you need anything else, just be sure to let me know."

"Actually, that would be our jobs." Two people walked in then, and Lindia recognized them immediately. They were the mentors, and they had been to her house several times to collect prizes and prepare for Reapings and such. They were nice people, she guessed, but it wasn't like they were going to do anything bad in the Mayor's home.

It was the woman, Jessie, who spoke. Lux pursed his lips. "Could you please excuse us?" Jessie said, her accent clipped. Lux finally left for good, but they could hear him muttering before the doors fully closed.

Aldrich, who raised cattle in his free time, spoke in a low voice, "Make sure you don't get on his bad side. He may be a silly, shallow escort, but he is a very close friend of the President, and it wouldn't do well to get on his bad side. He's a very, ah... _influential _person, if you catch my drift."

Lindia sucked in a breath. That morning, after her father and Lux's little tiff, Lux had been acting strangely... smug. And as he picked the names, he had looked right at her.

Jessie caught this intake of breath. "What?" she asked.

"It's just... Oh, you'll think I'm crazy." Lindia said in a small voice.

"In these Games? Everyone's crazy." Aldrich said. Esther looked at her, encouraging her to go on.

"Well, this morning, my Father and Lux had an argument. And at the Reaping, when he picked the name, he was looking right at me." Lindia remembered the moment and shuddered.

Jessie and Aldrich exchanged a long look. "Well, if that's the case..." Aldrich started, looking at Lindia and Esther very seriously, "These Games have already started. And they are going to be brutal."

District Eleven: Rosemary Greene, 16; Cobalt Denali, 18

Cobalt stared at Rosemary as she looked out the window. Her head was tilted to the side and her brow was furrowed, almost as though she were trying to figure out a difficult math problem. "How fast do you think we're going?" she asked suddenly.

Cobalt snapped out of his daze. "What?"

"It's certainly faster than anything I've ever seen. Maybe 200 miles per hour?" Somehow Cobalt knew this was a rhetorical question and she wasn't really asking him; she was lost in her own thought. "If you were to fall out of it, it would kill you."

She locked eyes with him as she said this, and Cobalt looked away, uncomfortable. Death wasn't really a subject he wanted to discuss right before the Hunger Games, and the way her eyes were two different colors was unsettling.

Chaff came in then, followed by a middle-aged woman named Apricot. Cobalt felt sick when he looked at the stump that used to hold a functioning hand.

Chaff noticed the staring. "What? A little blood and guts bother you? Let me tell you something, you're in for a big surprise." He sat right next to Cobalt, making sure the stump was right next to him. Cobalt grimaced but didn't move away.

Chaff was really young; he had just won last year at the age of sixteen. It was strange to be mentored by someone younger than himself. "Turn on the TV for me, will you?" Cobalt did as he said, and they watched the Reapings.

Cobalt grimaced when he saw the twelve-year-old boys from Five and Ten. Neither would last long. And the girl from Three looked so small she couldn't be more than seventy pounds.

Rosemary looked thoughtful throughout the whole thing. The Careers seemed cocky, especially the oafs from Two. The boy banged his fists against his chest like an ape, and the girl was dripping with vanity. Arrogance could turn any deadly person into a weakling.

"Well? What do you think?" Chaff eyed the two.

"Well, the pair from Two look strong, but sheer strength of the body cannot overpower the strength of the mind." Chaff, the other woman, and Cobalt all raised their eyebrows at her.

Finally, the woman cleared her throat. "Very good. And it seems that we have a very...ah... intelligent girl this year." Cobalt felt a little stab of jealousy when she said this. Already Rosemary was getting special attention. That was not good.

Rosemary noticed the subtle change. "And Cobalt is strong. District Eleven has a good chance this year, just like last year."

"True." Chaff agreed. Cobalt looked a little pleased with himself, and Rosemary suppressed a grin.

Words were powerful things, especially in these Games.

District Twelve: Acacia Andalu, 18, Tai Morrilo, 15

"I'm sorry," Acacia blurted out. Tai, who was looking out the window, turned to her.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"You know, for bumping into you," Acacia said shyly. Even though this boy was three years younger than her, she still felt intimidated.

"Oh. That. Well, it doesn't matter much now anyway." Acacia nodded, understanding the feeling. How something so silly could have seemed so important just an hour ago boggled her mind.

Their escort, Harper, entered then. Her bouncy orange curls were knocked askew, and Acacia and Tai shared a look. _Where was there mentor?_

Acacia rubbed her temples; she felt a headache coming on. "Does your head hurt?" Harper asked with too much concern.

"Yes." Acacia said, looking sideways at her. There was nothing she could do about a headache. Was there?

She clapped at one of the Avoxes, "Bring me some aspirin. Quickly!" The Avox hurried away and came back with a little white tablet and a glass of water. "Swallow it." Harper commanded, watching her.

Acacia took the tablet, confused. She popped it in her mouth and took a sip of water. "Now swallow..." Harper trailed off and Acacia swallowed. The water went down easily, but the capsule was still in her mouth. "Try again." Harper said. Acacia took a swallow of water and choked down the pill. She coughed, but there was an instant cooling sensation in her mind. It felt so good.

"Thanks." she said, putting the glass down on the table.

"No problem. Ah- I see your mentor's here." Harper got up and walked around in a circle, not sure what to do with herself. She finally just walked into the Dining Car, leaving Tai and Acacia with Pollen.

She was the only Victor District Twelve had ever had in the forty eight years oh Hunger Games. Tai swallowed nervously. One mentor meant that that one mentor would have to decide who to save, if it came down to it.

Acacia surveyed their mentor. She looked like she could use a bottle. Ten again, she had watched eighteen years' worth of tributes die.

"Well, we all know the chances o twelve winning are very slim..." Pollen broke off, looking at Acacia, who had burst into fits of insane laughter. Acacia had this weird thing about her- whenever she was in a scary or awkward situation, she would laugh. "Oh, so you think it's funny? Well, laugh away! You can watch the Reapings yourselves." Pollen got up and walked out of the room sharply.

Tai glared at Acacia. "Nice job." He flipped on the TV and looked away from Acacia in disgust. Just when she'd thought she'd made it up to him. She felt like crying. Or throwing up.

It was obvious who Pollen would choose to save.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now I have stuff to say. I'm going on vacation next week from Tuesday to Friday and my Dance Recital is Saturday, so don't expect any updates until like Monday. At the end of the chapters I'm going to start asking questions so I can get a little more "into" your character. You can answer in reviews or Pm's, BUT THE ANSWERS ARE VITALLY IMPORTANT AND MUST BE ANSWERED OR I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN AND BOMBARD YOU WITH MESSAGES UNTIL YOU ANSWER! Well I hope you liked the chapter, and thanks for all the positive reviews in the last chapter! (Yes, I did use familiar names for mentors on purpose.)**


	17. The Chariot Rides

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Aaaah! Sorry for the long wait! Well I designed most of these costumes and I didn't have any inspiration so... yeah. And I put this chapter in the view of a Capitol Citizen. There's nothing special about her, I just thought it sounded cool. Anyway, I've been playing these really cool games on the Scholastic Hunger Games website- "Tribute Trials" and "Trial by Fire" so... they are cool and have given me much inspiration for deaths ;) (muahahahahaha!)**

Tassel French, Capitol Citizen, POV:

"Ooh! I just can't _wait_ to see what the stylists have done this year!" I squeal to my best friend, Periwinkle Ferdue.

"I know! Last year District Four was amazing! I hope they look as good as they did last year!" Periwinkle gushes back. The District Four tributes are always her favorites.

Caesar Flickerman runs out onto the small stage then, and the audience goes wild. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Forty-Ninth annual Hunger Games!" The crowd erupts in applause, and I join in, screaming. "In just a few short moments, we will be welcoming our tributes to the Capitol! I think we need to give them a warm welcome, what do you think?" I holler in approval, just like the rest of the people.

"Now, let's start the ball rolling with District One!" Periwinkle jumps to her feet as the District One Chariot rolls out, pulled by silvery-white horses. They have actual gems in their hair and glued to their skin. The girl, Rika, wears a stunning silver dress covered in a swirling design of precious gems, and Haliun wears a stunning silver suit with a gem-studded tie. They both smile and wave at the crowd, but Haliun keeps putting his arm in front of Rika's face. Rude.

"Let's give a round of applause to District Two!" I gasp in shock as the Chariot rolls out. These two have actual weapons in their hands- they are brandishing golden swords that match their golden gladiator costumes. The designers expertly show off just the right amount of skin and muscle. They thrust their arms up and cross the swords in an X, and I go wild like the rest of the crowd. They both look straight ahead, deadly and practically glowing in the shining costumes.

"Let's welcome- District Three!" District Three are never real favorites, but their costumes suit them well. They have strange black ropes wrapped around them, and the ends almost seem to spark with electricity. Ophlidia's long hair has some studded barrettes in it, and Samuel's hair is done in the wind-blown style. I 'Ooooh' along with the rest of the audience. Ophlidia looks so tiny and scared next to Samuel, but he is playing up the audience, waving and winking. Charismatic.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen- District Four!" Hunter's dress is so beautiful that I just want to rip it off her back. The fabric is long and shimmery and it looks like water itself. She has luminescent pearls braided into her chestnut hair. The boy, Sven, is dressed in a bluish-whitish suit that seems to flow and change colors like waves. The audience goes wild at their appearance, and they smile and wave back at the crowd. I join in the cheer of, 'Hunter! Sven!' and many whitish-blue roses are thrown at them.

"Keep up the energy for District Five!" Everyone groans at Caesar's bad pun as the Chariot rolls out, but the groan automatically turns into shouts of amazement as they come out. Aria is dressed in a long black dress covered in crude blue jewels that reflect the light from the moon into a beam, making a stream of energy. Marck is dressed in a black tux that also reflects the light. They both look a little nervous and don't move much, but it doesn't take away from the genius of the stylist. They even showed up District Four...

"Can we make some noise for District Six?" The District Six Chariot comes out, pulled by black horses. Valentina and Folton have tight-fitted jumpsuits on with silver sparkles on them. They have streamers behind them that flare out as the Chariot moves, giving the impression of extreme speed. The light from the District Five Chariot flashes on them, almost like the headlights of a car. It is a nice touch. Valentina smiles and blows kisses at the audience, and my hand shoots up to catch one.

"Here comes District Seven!" I am shocked by the detail put into this Chariot. The horses are brown with green leafy headdresses, and the Chariot itself forms a canopy like a forest over the pair. Basil and Pip stand under it, holding hands and looking forward. Basil has a long, rich green dress with little vines hanging off in a swirling design. Pip wears a striking green tux with long brown pants, and his tie is a vine that matches Basil's. I applaud with the rest of the audience: for once, they are not trees: they are nature.

"Oh yes indeed! Here comes District Eight!" The District Eight Chariot comes out next. Kiara has a red dress that was wrapped around her several times like a ribbon, and there is a giant bow on her head that makes her seem in danger of falling. Corduroy has his arms slightly extended, as though he were prepared to catch her. He was dressed in a patchwork suit, not so overdone that it was overwhelming. His top hat had red ribbon tied around it in a bow, a nice touch.

"Feast your eyes on District Nine!" Another bad pun: District Nine is grain. The District Nine Chariot, pulled by honey-colored horses, pulled out then. The floor of the Chariot is covered in straw, and the sides are oozing the stuff. Clay is dressed as some freaky scarecrow, while Taffy has two curled pigtails and a powder blue dress with whit puffy sleeves. She's even holding a small basket- like from the movie the Wizard of Oz.

Taffy tries waving but ends up falling over in the Chariot. Capitol attendants rush out to her and try to wake her. I laugh along with the audience: this seems to have become a regular thing with Taffy. Once the fiasco is cleaned up, District Ten rolls out like nothing ever happened.

"Er...let's not forget District Ten!" Caesar tries to pull our attention back to the District Ten Chariot, but everyone is still buzzing with the excitement of what just happened. No one has ever fainted in the tribute parade before!

The Chariot rolls out then. The tributes are dressed in the usual cowboy outfit: Lindia has her hair in two pigtail braids with a cowboy hat over it, along with a short denim skirt, a plaid shirt that shows her bellybutton, and knee-high red boot. Nothing exciting. Esther has a cowhide vest, a wide straw hat, plaid shirt, blue jeans, and knee-high brown cowboy boots. He's even chewing on a piece of straw for good measure.

"Let's give a good-natured welcome to District Eleven!" Everyone shakes their heads at this joke. This year's pair both have red hair and pale skin- rare for District Eleven- but that's not what makes them stick out. They are actually spray-painted _green_- a bad combination with their vivid hair. Rosemary has berries braided into her gorgeous hair and a long green dress studded with the berries, and she is even holding a bright red apple. Cobalt has a leafy thing that barely covers him with a crown of vines on his head. Strange.

"And last but certainly not least, District Twelve!" The audience applauds lightly and politely for District Twelve, but once again, they wear nothing special. The Chariot is pulled out by coal-black horses, and you almost can't make them out. They wear awful black, baggy mining jumpsuits. The only attempt at color is the yellow headlamp, which is turned on and illuminates them slightly: their faces are smudged with coal dust. Acacia and Tai just glare straight ahead, obviously not happy with their costumes.

The Chariots stop in a ring around a podium, and President Snow steps up. I keep finding my eyes attracted to the District Five Chariot- they just look so stunning in their reflective outfits!

"Welcome tributes. And Happy Hunger Games." President Snow waits in silence for the crowd to stop cheering. "In just a few short days, you will be competing in a pageant of honor and sacrifice. Only the best will come out and be claimed Victor of the Forty-Ninth annual Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The tributes watch him solemnly while the audience erupt into applause. The Chariots start to move again, more slowly this time. My eyes follow the District Five Chariot as it goes around the track one more time: it's hard to keep my eyes off of them.

The doors of the stadium close with a final bang. Everyone around me starts buzzing- "Did you _see _the District Five costume?" "Even better than District Four!" "I can't wait to see their interview outfits!" "Did you see? She blew a kiss right at me!"

"Oh. My. Gosh." Periwinkle grabs my arm and squeezes it. "That was AMAZING!"

"I know!" I squeal back. This was my first time getting to see the Chariot Rides live, _in person. _"This is going to be the best year ever!"

Periwinkle and I get out of our seats and head to the after-party, laughing about the tributes and discussing which ones would be likely to gain the most sponsors.

After the Chariot Rides- In the Stables:

Clay stepped off of his Chariot and ripped off his mask, disgusted. Not only did he have the worst costume here, but he had the worst district partner, too. He couldn't have gotten someone hot like Valentina- he had to get stupid chubby Taffy. Now everyone in the Capitol would think he was stupid, too, and he would get no sponsors...

Cecilla glared at the Aria, who was just stepping off her Chariot. Her costume had shone, but it was dull compared to hers. _How dare she upshow me? _Aria looked over at Cecilla and glared back. Cecilla moved her sword into the light- she was itching to use it. Too bad the Capitol wouldn't let her...

Pip offered Basil a hand off the Chariot and she took it, smiling slightly. Pip felt like dancing. He had held Basil's hand the entire time. "You look beautiful." he said, looking down at her.

Basil blushed and smiled down at the ground. "Thanks. You look handsome." She looked up at him from under her long black lashes, and his heart actually skipped a beat.

Hunter climbed off the Chariot as soon as it stopped moving. "Hey, Hunter! Wait!" he shouted frantically. She turned, eyebrows raised. Sven jogged over to her. "Did you make up your mind yet? About allying with me...?" he trailed off, letting the question hang.

"Maybe. That's the best answer you'll get for now." Hunter turned on her heel and walked away. She would tell him tomorrow that she was going to team up with the Careers, and that he should join. But she wanted to keep him waiting: it was actually quite fun.

Marck stroked his token, which he had kept in his pocket the whole time. Tears came to his eyes as he thought of his sister. She would have loved seeing him up there, shining like the star she always said he was...

Valentina hopped off the Chariot and tossed her hair behind her shoulder, smiling widely. She had received plenty of red roses from potential sponsors, which was an excellent thing...

Esther sniffled as he played with a loose string on his costume. He couldn't help but think of Woody, who had been watching the whole thing. He hoped he was behaving for Mom...

Haliun stretched out his legs, which were a little stiff from standing still for so long. He wondered how proud Laurane had been, watching the Chariots and knowing _he_ was up there...

"See? I knew you could do it." Samuel smiled as he helped Ophlidia down from the Chariot.

"It was actually kind of fun!" Ophlidia said, smiling up at Samuel.

"I told you it would be." This was too easy. Ophlidia was falling right into his trap. He wouldn't kill her- he could never go back to face his district it he did- but he needed her to trust him...

Kiara hobbled to the elevator, barely able to move. "I hate this stupid dress!" she exclaimed, irritated. "Here, hold this." She tossed the end of the ribbon to Corduroy and started spinning around, unraveling herself.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Corduroy asked, watching her with a curious expression.

"Don't worry, I'm not getting naked." she snorted. She ripped the fabric with one deft motion, leaving a few inches of fabric over her thighs. "There. Much better." she said matter-of-factly before climbing into an elevator, leaving Corduroy gaping behind her.

Talon watched Rika out of the corner of his eye. Up close, the resemblance between her and his sister's murderer was even more pronounced. It took every ounce of his limited self-control not to pounce on her and start hacking her up with his sword... But that was for the Games...

Tai faced away from Acacia, arms folded across his chest. It was _her _fault their mentor didn't want to talk to them, and frankly, he didn't want to talk to her.

Acacia watched Tai with sad eyes, unsure of what to do. How could she make him like her...?

Aria headed for one of the elevators, itching at her arm. She hated the itchy fabric, and she didn't like the way the other tributes were looking at her. It wasn't _her_ fault her stylist had made this stunning costume... But now everyone despised her. She would have to make them think she wasn't a threat...

Rosemary took a bite from her apple thoughtfully, letting her eyes wander over the other tributes. The pair from District Seven were close together, and they looked like they were... in love. She made mental note of that as her eyes roved over the others. The boy from Nine looked irritated as he stomped off toward an elevator. Cecilla and Aria were glaring at each other from across the barn. The boy from Two was watching the girl from One with a look of pure hatred, and Acacia and Tai stood next to each other in a stony silence. She smiled slightly.

The tributes were already beginning to hate each other.

**Special Note: Thanks to HungerGamesGirl98 for the District Five Chariot costume idea! It was brilliant! (pun intended.) I covered as much of the tributes after as I could without making it seem tedious... Hope you enjoyed it!**


	18. Training Day One

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm putting 8 POVs in each chapter so every tribute gets one during training. (I like to be equal.) I HAVE A QUESTION AT THE BOTTOM THAT YOU MUST ANSWER FOR YOUR TRIBUTES! (Otherwise I will choose for them, and it may not be the one you like as it could lead to their DEATH...)**

**...**

Sven Haphesby (District Four) POV:

Hunter and I climb into our elevator. As soon as the doors shut, she turns to me. "I've been thinking..." Hunter starts. I hate the way she leaves the sentence hanging, but I don't push her. "We should join the Career pack, you and I. That way we know where they are, and maybe we could kill them off."

I nod. Her logic makes sense to me, and I was planning to join the Careers anyway. "Alright. We just can't seem like a pair, you know? We have to act like we don't like each other so the others don't see us as a potential threat."

"Not a problem." Hunter snickers, then steps out of the elevator. I follow her. We are the last tributes to arrive, even though we are five minutes early.

The Head Trainer, Celtix, launches into a speech as soon as we have our numbers pinned to our backs. "You may _not_ harm each other in any way. If you would like to practice hand-to-hand combat, a trainer will assist you. You will have three days here, and then you will have your private sessions. We will all eat lunch together. Any questions?" No one raises their hand. "Good. You may get started."

Hunter immediately goes for the archery station. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of where to go. I decide to head over to the spear station, since I'm good at spear fishing and I can wield the weapon well.

I pick up a nice-looking one: silver metal, and the tip is sharpened to a deadly point. The trainer hurries over to assist me, but I just ignore him and move to stand in front of the target. I pull my elbow back, then thrust as hard as I can. Ha! That was too easy- the still dummy proves no challenge, and my spear hits right where a tribute's heart would be.

I turn around and smile. The trainer looks impressed, but I am focusing on something over his shoulder. Cecilla is marching over to me, and the look on her face says she means business.

Cecilla Evans (District Two) POV:

I watch from the knife station as the boy from District Four picks up a spear and throws it- hitting it right where the heart would be. I bite back a smile and start walking over to him- he would make an excellent addition to the Career Pack.

Sven watches me with wary eyes as I pick up a small spear from the rack- it's just a foot long, more like the knives I usually use. "I saw you throw that spear," I say casually, positioning myself just so in front of the dummy next to Sven's, "You're very good."

"Thanks," Sven replies as he pulls the spear from his dummy.

"I was wondering- were you going to join the Career Pack?" I say this lightly, as though the answer is of no real importance to me.

"Yes, I'll join." Sven says without really looking at me.

"Excellent," I throw the spear with all my might, and it lands on the bull's-eye. I turn away immediately, leaving Sven gaping after me.

I see Talon over at the mace station and head over to him. I only offered for him to "lead" the Career pack with me so he wouldn't turn against me; really, I'm the one calling the shots. I wait for Talon to finish swinging the mace around before I address him.

"Sven is in," I say calmly, watching as Talon swings the mace some more with deadly force.

"Who?" Talon grunts out, still focused on the target in front of him.

"You know, the boy from District Four? He's in," I say, a little impatient. Talon can be so thick-headed sometimes.

"Oh," Talon watches over his shoulder for a minute as Sven throws another spear, hitting the heart once again. "He's good."

I roll my eyes at this statement. Of course he's good. I wouldn't let any bad tribute join the Career Pack! "So I was thinking- Maybe we should invite the girl from Four and the pair from One?" I say, not really asking: more like informing.

Talon tenses up when I mention the District One tributes, but only for a second before he relaxes. "Sure." He goes back to the task in front of him, and I bite back another smile.

I have got these Games under my control.

Corduroy "Roy" Davis (District Eight) POV:

I want to go over to the spear station, but the boy from Four is still there and I don't want to talk to him. So, instead, I stick with Kiara at the edible plants station. She passes without even blinking an eye, but I'm still struggling with it after close to an hour.

"How come you're so good at this? District Eight has no wilderness, for crying out loud!" I say, exasperated.

"I never said there was any wilderness in District Eight," Kiara says, so quietly that only I can hear. I look at her suspiciously- Is she implying that she has been _outside_ of the District? Preposterous. "Look, I'm going to the knives station. You can stay here if you want." Kiara goes over to the other station, leaving me alone.

Kiara and I had both agreed to make an alliance this morning on the elevator. Initially, I had wanted to do these Games alone, but after seeing Kiara's cleverness I rethought my whole plan. It wouldn't be too bad to have an ally, at least for the first few days. Especially if she could help me find some food.

I look back at the spear station- the boy is still there. I decide to go over anyway. Maybe everyone else will be so busy with their training they won't notice my lack of ability with weapons.

Sven looks up at me as I approach and smirks slightly. I narrow my eyes at him. He seems like a jerk- the kind that would play with girl's heart. He probably has nothing close to the love I share with Rayon.

I pick up a spear with a silver shaft and pointed blade. Simple but effective. I'm surprised that the weapon feels so natural in my hands, almost like the bat I had on the Bat Ball team. The trainer is coming over to me, but I don't want Sven to know I don't know how to use a weapon. I try to copy the stance I had seen him in earlier and throw the spear with all my force. It hits the dummy- on the left forearm.

Sven snickers and throws his spear, which lands right on the bull's-eye. "Would you like some-" the trainer starts to ask politely before I cut him off.

"No!" I grab another spear and hurtle it for the dummy. Both the trainer and Sven look astonished when it sticks- this time right over the heart.Rosemary "Rose" Greene (District Eleven) POV:

I lean against the wall and watch as Cecilla hurtles knives at the moving targets, always hitting on or close to the bulls'-eye. Not hard to figure out what her strength is. Corduroy and Sven seem to be having some spear-throwing competition- I will never understand boys. Hunter is working with a bow- she is quite an archer, and Rika surprises me- she is actually at the edible plants station, actually making an effort at the survival stations. Interesting for a Career- is she planning on splitting early? A smart idea, considering the way Talon was looking at her the other day.I glance over at Talon, who is wrestling one of the trainers. He is very good at hand-to-hand combat: all muscle, no tactics. As long as I can outrun him I'll be fine.

I'm pulled out of my reverie by a trainer, who comes over and asks if I need anything. "No, I'm just going over to the knives station." I go over there. The trainer is the one for that station, and she immediately begins lecturing me about the way to handle the knife. I don't listen to a word she says- I have already gathered the basics of knife throwing from watching Cecilla- you can learn a lot by watching.

No, I'm thinking of the strategy my mentor told me. _"Don't focus on any one thing: try everything. That way, no tribute will know what your strengths are, and you can surprise them and the Gamemakers." _I need to convince the others- particularly the Careers- that I am no real threat, and the best way to do that is to appear mediocre with knives.

"You get it?" the trainer finishes. I nod, then pick up a knife. I step into my stance- a little awkwardly, to make the ruse seem more real- and throw the knife clumsily, trying not to make it obvious that I was aiming for the shin. "Not bad," the trainer says, but over her shoulder I can see Cecilla smirking. "You need to put more force into your throw so it doesn't dip down to early- watch Cecilla." Cecilla smiles sweetly at us and picks up some knives, expertly throwing them at all of the dummies.

I bite back a smile of my own as I watch her. From her self-satisfied smirk I can tell that she thinks she's embarrassed me, but she couldn't be more wrong.

_Yes, Cecilla,_ I think as I watch her. _Keep throwing the knives and showing me how it's done. After all- you can learn something from watching people._

Esther Glade (District Ten) POV:

I pull back the string, being sure to hold the pebble perfectly still with my finger. After only a slight hesitation, I let go of the string and the pebble goes flying. It sails right through the paper of the target near the bottom- not my best shot, but still: at least I'm hitting the target.

I grab another pebble and re-load. I like the slingshot. It's easily handled, and it seems less like a weapon than a sword to me- more like something that could be done for fun. But this isn't fun: it's a matter of life and death.

"Hi," I turn around sharply. I see another boy who's about my height standing behind me with a slingshot in his hand.

"Hi," I say cautiously. I know who he is- he's the tribute from District Five. I know he's twelve, like me.

"I'm Marck," he says shyly.

"Esther," I respond. He reminds me of my friend Hadley. They look like they could be brothers.

"You're pretty good with that slingshot." he says, cautiously stepping closer.

"Thanks." He looks hopeful, and the next words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Want me to teach you?"

"Sure." he watches me expectantly.

I sigh, not really sure where to begin. "Well, it's all about the aim..." Marck listens intently as I try to explain the process. He's awful- he only hits the target once- but he keeps trying, and he never gives up. I admire that quality in a person.

After the thirtieth failed attempt in a row, he laughs. "I guess that weapon's not for me. I've been trying a couple, but I just can't seem to get the hang of any of them."

I actually smile. "Hey, maybe tomorrow you'll get better. With some training and practice, who knows..." I let the sentence hang there for a second, but then we both burst out laughing.

"Yeah, right. You don't get better at killing over night." he turns serious abruptly. "Well, I'm gonna go over to the edible plants station. Want to come?" I agree and follow him over. I don't know if I want him as an ally yet, but there's something in him that I just can't help but like.

Basil Pierce (District Seven) POV:

My eyes involuntarily sweep the Training Center for Pip. Even though it was my idea that we split up in order to have more knowledge, it still makes me anxious that he isn't beside me.

"Time for lunch! Put down your weapons. I repeat, put down your weapons. That goes for everyone, District Two!" Celtix calls out.

I'm so relieved that I almost run to the lunch room. All of the tributes are required to eat together, but I wouldn't necessarily call it eating "together." Most of the tributes just take their tray and sit alone. The Careers, however, push a bunch of tables together and talk loudly as they eat.

I find a table and sit there. Pip finds me and sits across from me. I look around the room- we are the only District partners sitting together apart from all the Careers.

"So, how was training?" Pip asks nonchalantly as he stirs his stew around.

"Good. I went to the climbing station. I'm terrible. I'm pretty good at starting a fire- but I need flint. How about you?"

"I tried throwing knives. I'm not too bad, but that girl from District Two- she's viscous." Pip looks at me across the table and speaks with surprising force. "You need to learn how to use a weapon, Basil. You have to know how to defend yourself. I couldn't live with myself if-" he breaks off and looks away.

I swallow down my food. "Okay, okay! I'll go try to throw some axes right after lunch!" I say just to appease him.

After lunch I wander over to the axe station, taking my time. I'm nervous about picking up a weapon for the first time, but if it will help me get home to Twila and Clovis then I'll try it.

The instructor comes over, looking excited- I guess I'm the first one that showed up all day- and immediately starts showing me the best techniques for throwing versus swinging, how to carry the axe, and how to use it defensively.

Midway through instruction, I look up and see the Head Gamemaker watching me with a cruel smile on his face. Great. Just what I need- attention.

Tai Morrilo (District Twelve) POV:

My stomach feels like it's about to burst. The food was good, and I just kept going back up for extra helpings. Might as well enjoy the food while I still can, since we all know I stand no real chance at winning.

I make my way around the outer edge of the Training Center, working on all the survival stations. The knot-tying instructor seems pleased to see me- I guess most people don't figure this as something they need to know. But I'm not stupid- one good snare can leave an enemy hanging upside-down from a tree by their ankle.

Tying the knots numbs my mind, and I'm actually quite good at it. I progress steadily forward, making a nice snare that can catch a rabbit.

My fingers falter when I sense someone behind me. I turn and find Acacia standing there, biting her lip. "What do _you _want?" I snap at her. I'm not in the mood for her- we haven't talked since that day on the train, even at meal times.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry. About the other day. I didn't mean for her to get angry, it's just that sometimes I burst into laughter when things are scary or awkward."

I want to snap back a retort, but I can tell she genuinely feels bad. "Look, I'm not going to say it's okay- she _is_ our mentor- but I accept your apology."

"Thanks," Acacia looks relieved. "Well, I better get going." she leaves, and I turn back to my knot, a little preoccupied. I'm not really surprised when my next knot turns out to be a jumble of ropes, but the trainer seems annoyed.

"Want to try again?" he asks. "I can show you how-"

"No, thanks," I cut him off. I don't need any Capitol people showing me how to do things. "I think I'll just go over to the pick-axe station."

I wander over to that station, which is empty. Being from the coal district and working in the mines from a young age does have one benefit: I can actually use a weapon. An advantage most tributes from Twelve don't have.

I get to work, using the axe to hack away parts of the dummy. I take out all my frustration on the stupid thing, and soon all that is left is a pile of limbs. The corner of my mouth lifts a little in satisfaction. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to condemn myself- maybe, if I can do this during the Games, I might just be able to get out alive.

Taffy Sweedums (District Nine) POV:

"I did it!" I gaped in shock, looking down at the training Center. "I actually did it!" I grab a branch from the tree simulation, eager to go higher. However, in my haste, I slip, crashing through the tree branches to the mat below. I land hard, and the impact knocks the breath out of me in a _Whoosh!_

"Maybe you should try something- anything- else," the trainer grimaces, grabbing a branch that had fallen with me. I look up- apparently I had only gotten five feet off the ground.

I hear a snicker off to my right and look over- apparently Cecilla had seen the whole thing. I feel the blood pool in my cheeks as I flush, embarrassed. "Okay," I say dejectedly as I painstakingly get to my feet.

I don't know what to do. I already failed miserably at swords- I accidentally got the sword stuck in the wall somehow. I even managed to knock over one of the dummies in my attempt to pull it free, which sent a whole row of them toppling over like dominoes.

I wander over to the camouflage station, which is empty. When the trainer sees me, she pulls all the vials of paint away from the edge of the table. I try to act as if I didn't see that, but it still hurts that everyone thinks I'm a fumbling idiot. "Hi. Can I try?"

The trainer sighs, then starts giving me instructions slowly, as if I'm stupid and can't understand them. "Do you get it? Would you like me to repeat anything?" she asks in the same slow voice.

"No, I think I get it," I pick up a brush and choose the brownish-grayish paint. The trainer sticks her arms out, as though she is preparing to catch something should it fall. But I'm very careful; I do everything in slow movements. What seems like minutes later but was actually an hour I am finished, and even the trainer gasps in awe when she sees what I have done to my arm.

I have painted it into a tree. I hold my arm against one of the trees in the climbing station, and even that trainer looks impressed. I smile a little.

Everyone thinks I'm just a klutz who won't last five seconds in the Games. I'll prove them wrong- they'll see just how deadly I can be.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter just flew off my fingers! Anyway, on that happy note, answer the crucial question: If you see three paths in front of you- One with the promise of food, one with the promise of shelter against the elements, and one that can hold anything- dangerous or life-saving- which do you choose? (As your tributes.) Please be very realistic when answering this question, as I want it to be in their "character." If I find it unrealistic or anti-climatic I might change it- sorry! I already know who's dying in the bloodbath, so yeah...**


	19. Training Day Two

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I guess I should have put up this question first: Would your tribute stay with their alliance? This could be broken down in many ways- Would they wait for their alliance at the Cornucopia? Would they try to find their alliance if they went separate ways? Would they just follow their alliance members wherever they went? And last, would they just not care and keep going? (This has just majorly given away the arena, but oh well,) Oh, and there is some bad language in this chapter- just thought I should forewarn you. Probably only this chapter, though, so don't be alarmed! And sorry about the wait- I did a lot of stuff this weekend, and I worked hard to get this up for you today! I'm just a lazy person. Oh, and italics mean either the direct thoughts of the tribute or, if used in dialogue, an emphasis on a particular word. I've gotten a lot of comments about Esther's name. Esther is an odd boy's name, but then again, Katniss is a weird name, too.**

Marck Seymour (District Five) POV:

"Up, up, up!" Jentson pulls back the curtains and flips the lights on. "Time for training!"

I groan and roll over, shielding my eyes from the sudden brightness. "Five more minutes," I grumble into my pillow.

"Tsk-tsk. I can't have you late to training! It would look bad." Jentson pulls the covers off of me, and I shoot straight up.

"What the-?" I blurt out, but Jentson is already walking out the door.

"Come on! Hop to it!" I climb out of the soft bed and pull on my training outfit. It's a simple black shirt with matching shorts and running shoes, like most of the other boys. To think, our stylists even need to design training clothes!

After a quick breakfast of oatmeal with cinnamon and creamy hot chocolate, Aria and I climb into the elevator. She looks tired, like she was up all night. I don't say anything to her and she doesn't say anything to me. I know she pities me, the poor little twelve-year-old who got sent to the arena.

Aria and I are the last ones to arrive, exactly at nine o'clock. "You may begin!" Celtix calls out without a big speech like yesterday.

I head right over to the slingshot station. Esther agreed to meet over here first thing in the morning. I barely have to wait thirty seconds before he arrives.

"Remember what to do?" Esther asks as he picks out his sling shot.

"Yes," I say, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to be good." Esther actually cracks a smile. I'm not quite sure where we stand- are we allies or not?- but I can know that if he'd lived in my District we would have been friends.

We spend a few minutes in companionable silence, loading our slingshots and letting the ammo fly. "Hey, it looks like you got better." Esther says enthusiastically, trying to make me feel better. It's true- I actually got ten shots on the target- but I'm still nowhere near as good as Esther.

"Thanks," I sigh, a little disgruntled. Then, before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "Want to be allies?"

Esther freezes for a second. My heart pounds as I wait for a reply. _That just might be the stupidest thing I've ever_- "Sure," he says. He faces his target and lets the shot fly, hitting right in the center.

Rika Tiell (District One) POV:

My stomach flips as I watch the other Careers doing what they do best- killing. Or at least hacking the limbs off of dummies and pretending they're killing.

The truth is, I don't have a weapon I'm amazing at. Not like Cecilla with her knives, Talon with his mace, Haliun with his axe, Sven with his spear, and Hunter with her bow. I'm okay with a bow and pretty good with knives, but they all seem to be amazing. I need to learn some skills, especially since I'm going to split off pretty early.

I'm not stupid, I've seen the way Talon looks at me- like he wants to destroy me. I told my mentor about this yesterday after dinner, and Caramel told me that she killed Thystle Striker in the final two of the 47th Games. Thystle Striker. Talon Striker. He must want to avenge her death, which would be made all the more realistic by the fact that I look just like Caramel. Great, just what I need- the craziest and not-entirely-sane Career wanting to torture me for revenge.

I make my way over to the knot-tying station. The trainer's mouth pops open for a second- he must not be used to seeing any tributes here, _especially _not a Career. He quickly recovers his composure and starts teaching me the basics of knot-tying.

I'm actually pretty good in the beginning, but this is just the basic stuff, and my fingers eventually start turning red and fumbling as we get to the more difficult knots. I give up after my fifth attempt at a snare that can catch a squirrel and storm away in frustration. _Who needs knot-tying, anyway?_

The next station is one on cooking animals. Honestly, the gutting and skinning process creeps me out a little, but it's necessary if I want to win. Which I do.

Once I finally get it skinned and cleaned, which is a lot grosser than it sounds, I set it up on a fire. It takes a surprisingly long time for the squirrel to cook, and I find myself shifting from foot to foot impatiently. _How do they even get these squirrels? And why do they supply them in training? _I wonder absentmindedly as I stare at the cooking flesh.

After several more moments of boredom, the trainer asks, "Would you like some?' I stare in disgust as she offers me a bit of the squirrel I just cooked. I would never eat that thing if I had the choice, which in this case, I do.

"No, thanks," I turn and walk away, my nose wrinkled.

Of course, cooking the animal would only help if I could catch it, which I can't.

Clay Watson (District Nine) POV:

Building a fire with the flint was easy. It was even easier to take the piece of flint and slip it into my pocket when the trainer wasn't looking. All I have to do is put it in my arena outfit and I'm all set with fire.

I walk away from the station casually, as though nothing ever happened. The fool doesn't even realize anything is missing- not yet, anyway. Then he'll start looking for it, then he'll think he dropped it, then he'll think he must be crazy.

Because a District Child would never take anything from the Capitol, right?

Wrong.

I make my way over to the knife station, where Cecilla is practicing. What a shock- she's only spent every minute of training here, except when she went to talk to the other Careers.

She puts down one of her knives on the rack, then gets back to throwing. The temptation is too strong, and I just can't resist- I walk by and casually slip the knife off the table, tucking it into my belt with the flint. Then I walk over to the camouflage station, which happens to be right next to it. I'll have the perfect view when she explodes.

I busy myself with the paints, but it takes all of ten seconds for Cecilla to realize her knife is missing. "Who took my knife?" she yells to no one in particular. There's only one other person at the station- the hot one from Six, Valentina. "Did you take it?" Cecilla demands, hands on her hips.

Valentina looks up at her. "What? No!"

"Well you're the only other one here, so it must have been you! Give it to me, _now_." Cecilla locks her emerald eyes on Valentina, and I have to admit, she looks positively _livid. _I have to work hard to keep the smile off my face.

"I told you already. I. Didn't. Take. It. Can you comprehend that, or do I need to spell it out for you?" Valentina says, voice strong and head held high.

Now half the Center is watching, and a trainer is making her way over. "Ladies, is there a problem?" The trainer demands, hands on her hips.

"Not at all," Cecilla says sweetly, "I must have just misplaced my knife." The trainer nods and walks away, still looking a little apprehensive. Tributes aren't supposed to fight until they get to the arena.

Cecilla leans in and whispers something to Valentina, then walks away, only to find the knife right where I put it just seconds before.

Valentina Morocco (District Six) POV:

"You better watch your back in the arena, whore," Cecilla sneers before turning and walking back to the knife rack. My mouth opens in rage, but I don't know what to say back to her without guaranteeing myself a long and painful death in the arena. _That stupid, arrogant, self-centered, obnoxious, BITCH!_ My insides swarm as I glare at her back.

I mean, it's not _my _fault my stylist decided to put me in this skimpy outfit. If it were up to me, I would have worn pants that actually cover my thighs, and I would have worn a shirt with a higher neckline. But my stylist seems to live by the motto, "The more bare skin, the better."

Cecilla freezes at the knife rack, then picks something up. I see the glint of the blade in the light- _her knife. _My hands clench into fists and my teeth grind together.

"Break for lunch! _Everyone_ put their weapons _down_," Celtix calls. I storm away from the knife station before I can do anything rash. I'm usually never a violent or mean-spirited person, but Cecilla brings out that kind of reaction in me.

I'm so busy fuming for the next few minutes, dreaming of how I could kill her, (yeah, right.) that I don't even notice that I'm behind her on the lunch line. Only when she turns and I see her cruel emerald eyes that I know who it is. "How did you _do_ that?" she hisses so only I can hear.

"Do _what?_" I ask impatiently, taking a spoonful of rice.

"Get my knife back on the rack," Cecilla says, glaring at me with hatred. Well, the feeling is mutual. I don't know what she's talking about- what did she think that I did? Freeze time and put her knife back? Teleport it there? She's even dumber than I thought.

"I told, you I didn't take it. Just because you don't know how to use your eyes doesn't mean I sabotaged you-" I'm cut off when she spills some of her cup of water on me. An involuntary gasp is drawn out of me as the cool water seeps through my shirt, just over my stomach.

"Oops," she says, smiling sweetly before turning and walking away.

I stand there for a few seconds, shocked. An Avox rushes over with some napkins, but I'm too busy thinking murderous thoughts to care.

I can't wait for her to die.

Cobalt Denali (District Eleven) POV:

I sit alone at my table, staring at the plate of untouched food before me. I'm homesick. I just can't eat this food. The memory of my last meal with my family keeps popping into my head- Carnation screaming and running from a bug, Fraye stumbling around like a lost little boy. They're both so sweet and helpless, and I just can't bear leaving them forever.

I hate the Capitol. I hate the people, the plush rooms, the extravagant food, the stupid costumes, and most of all their cruel, sadistic Games. There must truly be something wrong with people who can so easily sacrifice the children of their own country and enjoy watching it. It's sickening, and I just want to shake the people until it sinks into their dyed heads.

"You may go back to training!" Celtix calls. The Careers jump up and run out of the room, anxious to get back to their weapons and put on a show for the Capitol. _Don't they realize that only one of them can live?_ I want to shake them, too, but they'd probably have me pinned to the ground in two seconds flat.

I get up and follow the rest of the tributes, who are all moving at a slow march, almost like they are at a funeral. Which, in a way, they are.

I decide to go to the sword station again. I've visited it a couple of times, and I'm actually pretty good at it. Just because I don't agree with the Games doesn't mean I won't try to fight- I'll try my hardest, just like everyone else.

I work at the dummy, moving the sword through the air in a flashy arc. It was difficult at first, but now the weapon moves almost like an extension of my arm. The trainer was quite impressed by my ability to adapt- he said I learned quickly. I would have taken it as a compliment, but the look of surprise on his face was demeaning. Plus, he was from the Capitol, where "You look good" coincides with purple skin and fangs.

I take out all my anger and frustration on the dummy, chopping it's limbs off in clean swipes. I wonder where they get these dummies from- surely they're too lazy to make it themselves. They rely on the districts for everything: food, transportation, power, even the tributes for their Games. I wonder why no one has ever thought of this before, and why no one has staged a rebellion. Without us, there would be no Capitol. No Panem.

No Hunger Games. _Maybe some day someone will do something._

I push the thought from my mind with a laugh. Yeah, right.

Ophlidia "Haley" Aulis (District Three) POV:

I work through the obstacle course, struggling through the nets, climbing over the rock walls, and pulling myself between two walls with a rope. It's very difficult, but I've already made it through the course six times today and eight times yesterday. I can already feel my body getting stronger from the intense workout. Coupled with the food, and I think I've already gained ten pounds.

I make it through the course in my record time. "Good work," the trainer at the end says as he pats me on the back. I've talked to all of these trainers throughout my time here. They're very kind people, something I wasn't expecting from the Capitol.

"Thanks," I pant, smiling a little, then I go grab a drink of water.

I make my way back to the top of the course, and I am just about to go through it one more time when I see three Careers coming- the boy from Two and the pair from Four.

I freeze in my tracks and stare at them. Three people. Two sides to the course. I know what's coming before it happens, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. "I'm going against Sven," the girl declares. Which leaves me with one opponent. Talon.

I've versed a couple of people over the time I've spent here, but I've always beaten them. My small body makes it easy for me to make it through some of the tougher spots, something Talon won't be able to do. I also have the advantage of knowing this course so well that the trainers have to shake the nets and throw stuff at me to give me a challenge.

Talon glances at me and snickers, but doesn't say anything- almost like he thinks I'm too unworthy. His mistake. "See you on the other side," he says loudly, then climbs to the starting line.

"No attempting to harm or disrupt the other tribute. This is purely training and has no influence on the future success of the tributes. Once you reach the end, promptly get off the platform and receive your time so the next pair can go." the trainer says, looking mostly at Talon when she says this.

"Alright tributes. On your mark," I lean forward slightly, prepared to take off, "Get set," she brings her whistle to her lips, and my muscles are quivering with anticipation.

She blows the whistle, and I take off.

Talon Striker (District Two) POV:

I run for the rock wall and fling myself at it. The first few steps are easy, but I run into a tough spot halfway up the wall. I glance at Ophlidia out of the corner of my eye and see that she's already swinging one leg over the wall. I grab at the wall frantically, but I don't get a good purchase, and I slip, falling backwards and landing on the matt with a _thud._

A trainer rushes to help me, "Are you alri-"

"_I'm fine!_" I growl, pushing past him and charging at the wall again. This time, I only get a quarter of the way up when gravity pulls my heavy body down to the ground. It's infuriatingly difficult- it looked so easy from far away. _How can that puny little _girl _do it and _I_ can't?_

The trainer has learned his lesson and doesn't come near me this time, only watches with concern as I pull myself off the ground. I run full-force at the wall, determined to get over it this time. _Left, right, left, right. _I focus on the wall above me, not wasting my time by looking down. This time, I make it all the way to the top. I snarl in triumph and start to pull myself up when my foot slips- I'd expected there to be a knob there. My heart skips a beat, and in my panic I let go, cascading down the wall like that clumsy girl form Nine.

"Oof!" When I land the air is knocked out of me in a sharp burst. I lay there for a moment, sucking in the air like some retarded fish. This time two trainers hurry over, but I don't even have the energy to wave them away.

"Is he alright? Tell me he's alright!" The one from before says, panicked.

"He's breathing, calm down." the woman says, exasperated. Somewhere in the distance, a gong sounds over the ringing in my ears.

"Whastha?" I ask, the trainers swimming before my eyes. I feel like a total idiot, but I can't get control of my senses.

"That was the end of the match. Ophlidia just beat you." her tone is indifferent, but this just sparks the anger inside me. That pathetic little wisp of a tribute just beat me? _Me? _Talon Striker, the best of the best, the Career of all Careers? She made me look like an idiot.

And no one lives with making me look like an idiot. I will get my revenge.

Kiara Siebel (District Eight) POV:

I run up next to Corduroy at the track, easily keeping pace. We're both very fit for tributes from Eight. "Corduroy, I've been thinking..."

"Oh, great. What about this time?" he pants, picking up the speed a little. I match my pace to his.

"I was thinking that we should have some other people in our alliance." I watch him carefully as this news sinks in. I don't really know what to expect with him.

He looks guarded. "Who exactly were you considering?" he asks carefully.

"I was thinking that girl from Eleven, Rosemary? She was watching everybody yesterday, and she's not too shabby with a knife either."

He nods, clearly relieved that it wasn't some poor little kid. "Who else?"

"Maybe that girl from Five, Aria, or the boy from Three, Samuel. They both seem strong." It's true. Plus, the more people you have on your side, the further you can get.

He huffs out a breath and slows to a jog. "I guess you can ask them."

"Great. I'll let you know what they say." I peel off from Corduroy and run over to the knife station, where Rosemary is just pulling her knives out of the target. "Hello, Rosemary," I say as I pick up a knife from the rack. I came here yesterday and threw a few knives, but I prefer a dagger. Much easier to handle.

"Hello Kiara," she says cautiously, watching me as I stretch out my throwing arm. I'm glad we're not going through the formalities- I think it's obvious that both we know who the other is by now.

"I was wondering- would you like to be in an alliance with me and Roy? I mean, Corduroy." I correct myself. Obviously she doesn't know his nickname.

She considers for a moment, her mouth screwing to the side. "Sure, why not." She turns back to the board and throws another knife.

"Excellent. We were thinking of asking Aria, the girl from Five, and possibly Samuel from Three." I throw my own knife. It hits the target, but not the center.

Rosemary's eyes flit around the room, landing on both of the tributes. "They seem good." she says after some thought.

"Alright. I'll tell them tomorrow, because training should be ending any minute." Right on cue, Celtix calls for everyone to put their weapons down.

I smile slightly. I have got everything right where I need it to be- as long as nothing messes it up.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Meh. I didn't really know what to write for Rika, so I just kind of made a giant inner monologue. Sorry, but not everything can be exciting. I like character interactions, but I don't want to make giant POVs so sometimes they get cut off. Remember to answer the question from the beginning of the chapter! And thanks to The Head Gamemaker, who has reviewed every chapter so far!**


	20. Training Day Three

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm fixing all previous chapters... *twitches like a crazy person* which will take a long time. I already did District One, and I added nearly 800 words in random places. Not because I just wanted more words, but I feel it makes the narration run more smoothly and less choppy. (Exciting, I know.) Anyway, guess what: four/five more chapters till the Games! (I think.) Also I'm going to be putting up the form for another story within the next week, so be on the look out for that. It's the 25th because I'm cool like that! That story will be better than this one, because it's a Quell. I'm sure you all know the tragic story of this one and how it came to be, and I just wanted to thank you guys for sticking with me and supporting me even though it got some pretty rude comments the first time around. You guys were the reason I kept writing this, because I didn't want to disappoint you and your tributes. So thanks from me, and it's going to be hard to kill your tributes off. If you want to be a part of the Quell, PM me and let me know and I'll send over the form, because I'll be giving my little audience the first chance to get the more desirable Districts. (About two days.) I already have the intro written, and don't worry, I'm not starting it until I have finished either this story or my other one. About the story- Haliun and Lindia's POVs are happening at the same time. Sorry about the long author's note, but there is just so much I had to say.**

Samuel Sellers (District Three) POV:

"Are you nervous?" I ask Ophlidia, who is shifting from foot to foot anxiously.

"A little," she admits, glancing up at me, "I don't really know what to show the Gamemakers." I nod, showing understanding.

"I don't know what to show them, either," I say. When the elevator doors open for the final day of training, I motion for her to go first in the gentlemanly way.

We are among the first to show up, and we wait idly. No one is talking; everyone is staring at one another, so I am startled when a girl with dark hair and brown eyes comes up to me. "Can I have a word?" she asks.

"Sure," I say, perplexed.

"_Alone_," she hints, glancing pointedly at Ophlidia, who blushes and walks away.

"What do you want?" I ask, widening my eyes innocently.

"Do you have any allegiance to your district partner?" she asks, cutting straight to the point.

I look at Ophlidia out of the corner of my eye, who is watching us and trying not to seem too obvious. "No," I say, looking back at the girl.

"Good. Because my District partner, Corduroy, and I have started an alliance with Rosemary from Eleven, and we wanted to know if you would like to join." She doesn't say it as an offer; more like a demand.

"Fine," I say evenly. This is a no-brainer; it was my plan from the beginning. Get people to trust me. Or the fake me, anyway.

"And we were thinking of asking the girl from Five, too," she says.

"Perfect." The more people, the better. "And who are you again?" She never _did _say her name.

"Kiara, District Eight," she turns on her heel and walks away. A sudden recognition hits me: she was the girl I saw unraveling herself from a dress like a giant ribbon.

Ophlidia makes her way back to me, eyeing me nervously. "What was tat about?' she asks, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. I'm too good at reading people.

"She was asking if I wanted to be in an alliance with her," I've made up my mind about what I want to say: I'm going to tell the truth. Or at least part of it.

"And what did you say?" she asks, biting her small lower lip.

"No," I say, and she smiles a little, looking relieved.

Hunter Blackthorne (District Four) POV:

"You may now begin," Celtix says, sounding like a professor giving a test. I immediately head over to the archery station, which has been my home of sorts since training began.

I notch my arrow and pull back the string to my favorite bow- a nice silver one that feels feather-light. I breath in, steadying my hand, then let the arrow fly. It pierces the dummy through it's "eye." I notch a second arrow and shoot it straight into the other eye. Now the dummy looks like some ugly arrow mutt thing.

"You have excellent aim." I look out of the corner of my eye and see Rika standing there with her own bow.

"Thanks." I don't really know what to say to her. Weird, because I _always_ know what to say. She's in the Career Alliance, but I haven't ever talked to her one-on-one. "You're... good with knives," I say.

The corner of her mouth goes up a little. "Not as good as Cecilla." I don't say anything to that. No one is as good as Cecilla with knives. She lets her arrow fly, and it sticks out of the shoulder of her dummy, right next to the neck, which she was obviously aiming for. "Damn," she sighs, grabbing another arrow. I take a closer look at her chestnut hair and greenish eyes. She almost reminds me of Zoey Bennet, my one and only friend. It may sound sad, but it's true.

"Hey Hunter," a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn and see Sven standing there, the corner of his mouth lifted in a little grin. I'm not sure where we stand- I'm stuck between him being my unquestioning follower or tentative almost-equal. Sometimes he seems a little goofy and trusting, but at others he can be quite intelligent, unlike any of the boys _I've_ ever talked to. Which, I have to admit, is not that many.

"Hi Sven," I say, turning back to my archery and letting an arrow sail through the belly button of my dummy.

"Um... I was wondering if maybe we could talk," he says, and I immediately know what he means. Could he be making it any more obvious that we have a secret alliance? All these public interruptions have got to stop.

So I immediately make the rational decision: "No," I say sharply, turning away from his hurt expression and continuing to work on my shooting.

Pip Curry (District Seven) POV:

I watch from the camouflage station as Basil works with an axe. She's actually pretty good at it; at least she'll be able to defend herself if I die. _When I die, _I mentally correct myself, becauseI don't plan on making it back without her. I'm doing everything in my limited power to make sure she lives and makes it home.

I make my way over to the axe station. I'm okay with a knife, but I need to be able to defend her. She won't want me to defend her; she likes to take care of herself. But I know she's only fourteen, and I have to take care of her.

"Hello, Basil. Are you alright?" I ask, concerned when I see the blank look on her lovely face.

"What? Oh, nothing. Hello, Pip," she responds, wiping the blank look off her face and smiling. It lights up her whole face, so different from the scowl she usually wears. "What are you doing here?" she asks, brushing my hand with hers.

"I came to work with an axe," I grab her hand and hold it for a minute, then press the back of hers to my lips. She looks up into my eyes and blushes. It looks so lovely with her olive skin.

I've always been a hopeless romantic. All the girl back in Seven would always bat their eyelashes at me, but I've always had eyes only for Basil. She's so tough and strong on the outside, but on the inside she's sweet and kind.

"Would you like to help me?" I ask, still staring into her light green eyes.

"S- sure," she stammers. She looks away and shakes her head, then picks up the axe she had been working with. She looks at me again and purses her lips, considering. "I usually use a smaller axe for throwing. But you would probably be better with a bigger one, since you have such big hands."

"Okay," I say. She grabs one for me, and I place my hand over hers before taking it. I'll never get over how lovely she is.

She turns back to her work, her dark hair flying behind her as she chucks another axe. A trainer come over and instructs me on the basics of an axe. I'm okay- my strong build allows me to wield the large axe with ease, even though I never used one in Seven.

I spend the rest of my time there, never letting my eyes off of Basil. I'm going to enjoy every last second with her, because I won't be alive much longer.

Acacia Andalu (District Twelve) POV:

The trainer comes out at me, aiming a kick that will knock my feet out from under me. I jump to the side, using my weight to knock him down while he's on one foot. It works, and he crashes down with an, "Oof!"

I pin his arms down to his sides with my knees, when put my "knife" to his throat. It's just a wooden thing leaden down with the weight of a knife, but it can't cause any harm.

"Yes! I did it!" I exclaim. My heart soars, and it takes all my self-control not to jump up and start dancing. My dancing is quite awful- it looks like I'm a blind bear trying to balance on a tightrope- so it's a good thing I have a lot of self control.

The trainer flips me onto my back and twists my hand so the knife is now pressed to my throat. The wood feels rough against my skin, and her beady eyes lock on mine. "You must not lose focus. You cannot celebrate until you hear the canon fire. All it takes is one slip up. You would have died."

She gets off me and tosses the wooden "knife" away. I struggle to my feet, my body aching where I was twisted against the rough mat. _Damn_. My brief moment of elation evaporates. She's right, I really do stand no chance.

I leave the self-defense station, not really wanting to try again. I feel pathetic. I've tried nearly ten times to take a trainer out, but this was the closest I've ever gotten. I'd thought I'd had it, too. I feel a sense of defeat, almost like I've given up.

Great. Now, not only my mentor has given up on me, but I have, too.

I think back to our brief meeting this morning:

_"So, do you have any talents?" Pollen asks, taking a sip of coffee._

_"Well... not really," I say, not meeting her gray eyes._

_"Not really?" she says slowly, observing me. Still I don't look her in the eye. "So what are you planning to do in the arena? Save me the drama and tell me if you're going to fight. Because you don't seem like you stand a chance."_

_I gape at her, taken aback. How can a mentor give up on a tribute?_

_"So go out there today, find something you're good at, or don't bother trying. You can't win with no talent." She walks out, putting down her coffee and opting for liquor._

I want to cry. I have no talents. I failed.

And now I stand no chance.

Folton Gray (District Six) POV:

_"Folton, I am so proud of you." My Father says, pulling me into a hug._

_"Thanks, Dad," I say, my voice thick. A feeling of pride swells within my chest._

_"Not many kids could do what you've done. You are strong, you are brave, and I will be with you until the last minute." He is very serious. He's hardly ever smiled since Falia and Asher died. I guess I'm the same way- not much makes me happy._

_"But there's something you must understand. I did something that the Capitol doesn't like. That's why you and your brother and sister were Reaped- it's my punishment. It is not your fault. Never blame yourself. But no matter what you do, the Gamemakers will do everything in their power to make sure you don't stand a chance. You have to be strong, even when it seems that everything is stacked against you. Because it is. I love you, son, and just remember everything I've said."_

I think back to the conversation I'd had with my Father this morning. I hadn't really understood what he meant back then, but now I know. He meant that the Gamemakers are going to kill me off in the arena, even if I survive the bloodbath. I really don't stand a chance. I can try to make it as far as I can to make my parents proud, but I'll only have to suffer. Because this is my Father's punishment, and they can't let any of his children survive.

I choke back my sobs as I work on the fire-building station. I don't want to die. There's a difference between me and everyone else- they have a chance. Me, I have none. I am going to die. And it is going to be very painful.

I keep my head bent down so no one can see my eyes, which are tearing up. I feel like something was taken out of me- the will to live. Everything has come crashing down on me: the pain of Falia and Asher's deaths, the pain that I will never see my Mother again, the knowledge that I am going to die a long and painful death with no control over my fate.

That's when the idea starts to form. It's unthinkable, something that's never been done in all the years I've watched the Hunger Games. But it is the one thing I can do to ensure a quick and painless death, and it will show the Capitol that I do have control over my death.

Aria Franks (District Five) POV:

I twirl the knife around in my fingers, considering. The private Gamemaker sessions are today, and this is the one chance the tributes, including myself, have to show what they're made of.

My mentor told me to appear mediocre. "A mediocre score means the others won't see you as a threat, and then, when everyone's forgotten about you, you can attack them all and show them how deadly you are," were Penelope's exact words. But a mediocre score also means another thing: no sponsors.

The way I see it (and Penelope sees it), I have two options: 1. Throw knives well and get a good score, making myself seem like a threat and having at least a possibility of sponsors, or 2. Not do well and have no one see me as a threat, without the slimmest chance of gaining a sponsor. It's a touch choice, but one I'm going to have to make.

"Planning on throwing any time soon?" A high-pitched voice crows behind me, and I groan internally. I would recognize her controlling voice anywhere: It's Cecilla, Queen of the Idiot Pack.

I want to say, "Nope!" but intelligence gets the best of me, and I throw my knife. It hits the dummy in the arm; not a bad spot, but it's not a good spot either.

"Thank you," she says in a sarcastic voice that makes it clear she's not thankful at all. I bite back my retort and keep walking. The decision I have been agonizing over was made in that rash decision: I am going to appear mediocre.

I stop short in my musings- I almost banged into the girl form Eight. She's looking at me funny, almost like she's deciding something. "Can I help you?" I ask, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"Er..." she looks at me for a few more seconds, torn, before she says, "No."

"Good. So I'll be on my way then." I walk around her, wondering what on Earth that was all about.

Haliun Gritther (District One) POV:

"Put your weapons down. I repeat, put your weapons down. The final training session has now ended," Celtix says into a megaphone.

I go into overdrive mode: a sort of panic starts within me, and I feel like I have to do as much as I can in the next few seconds. I frantically chop at the dummy in front of me, reducing it to shreds.

"PUT ALL WEAPONS DOWN NOW OR YOU WILL NOT RECIEVE A TRAINING SESSION!" Celtix finally screams in frustration. I don't think he's allowed to do this, but it works all the same. Anyone who still had a weapon in their hand places it back on the respective rack. "Thank you," he huffs, brushing his hair back from his face casually. "Please report to the dining area for lunch, where you will be briefed on you private sessions."

I make my way to the dining area, pushing in front of everyone so I can get to the food first. I pile my plate high with all the best stuff and go over to the giant table where the rest of the Careers will join me.

"Ugh. That's disgusting." Cecilla says, watching me stuff my face with distaste.

"What?" I say, my mouth full of meat and gravy, which I know will just gross her out even more.

She turns away and talks to the others like I'm not even there, which annoys me. She thinks she's so superior just because she has a pretty face she can throw a few knives. I wish I could smack that look right off her face with my sticky hand. "So what are you guys going to do for the Gamemakers? I'm going to throw knives. I'll be surprised if I don't get at least an eleven. There hasn't been anyone as good as me in years," she says, taking a dainty bite of her stew.

I roll my eyes. "I'm getting a twelve." Cecilla shoots a glare at me, but I'm not worried. I've only been giving eighty percent in training. Wait until those stupid Gamemakers see what I can do when I give one hundred percent.

"Haliun Gritther, District One male." A cold voice says over the loud speakers. I get up and stat strutting my way to the door.

I'm going to give them a grand opening.

Lindia Elmswood (District Ten) POV:

"Put your weapons down. I repeat, put your weapons down. The final training session has now ended," Celtix speaks into a megaphone. He has to repeat it several times before everyone actually stops, and even then he has to scream a threat. The room is eerily quiet; there is a feeling of ending in the air. "Please report to the dining area for lunch, where you will be briefed on your private sessions."

I shuffle along with the rest of the group, my heart squeezing in my chest painfully. I can feel the panic start to bubble up inside me. I'm not ready. These two and a half days of training were not enough for me. I think back to the past days- was there something else I should have done, is there something else I need to learn? I didn't spend much time at the shelter station- what if I die because of that? I try to calm myself without success.

"You will each get fifteen minutes with the Gamemaker, where you will perform whatever skills you wish. When your name is called, make your way back to the training arena. You may go up to your rooms once you are dismissed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor." A woman says in a clipped voice. She has on the deep purple robes of a Gamemaker. The sight of her makes me nervous: soon she will be watching me attempt to use a poison dart gun.

I can't eat any of the food laid out in front of me, because if I do, I'll barf. My nerves are wound tight and my heart is still squeezing spastically, just like it always does when I'm nervous. I want to cry- it seems my tear ducts are connected to frustration, which just makes me more frustrated and therefore makes me want to cry more.

I don't know how long I sit there agonizing over what's about to happen, but they start to call the tributes away eventually. They all walk past the table where I am sitting. It takes me a minute to realize that the room is totally silent, and not even a whisper is heard, except for the cold voice of the woman who spoke to us earlier as more and more names are called.

"Esther Glade, District Ten male." I start hyperventilating a little, and I am shaking like a leaf. _I can't do this, I can't do this..._

"Lindia Elmswood, District Ten female." I get to my feet shakily at the sound of my name. I take a deep breath and head back to the Training Center, trying not to barf.


	21. Gamemaker Sessions

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi people! So my second story is up if you want to read it, and I am in desperate need of male tributes. I have... one. Or you can submit for one of the two female spots left if you want. Or not at all. I'm done talking now. Sorry about all the random updates but in the summer I am lazy or I'm with my friends and stuff. And as I've said before, I will be disappearing with little or no updates for the month of August because of Camp NaNoWriMo. I would never abandon the story, so don't panic if you don't hear from me at all. I'll *hopefully* be back to once-a-week updates in September. (Haha.) I kind of lost some of what you said your tributes would do for the Gamemakers, so I had to make a lot up... hope you don't mind. A lot of the sessions were similar, but oh well. I just banged this all out in the past two hours, so sorry if there are any mistakes. Frankly, I'm still to lazy to proofread. So yeah, this is told like all of Barbor's other chapters. **

**...**

"Haliun Gritther, District One male." Barbor looked up from his clipboard at the sound of his assistant, Barbella's, cold voice over the intercom. The Gamemakers seemed to be waiting intently; all eyes were fixed on the sliding metal doors that would soon be spewing out tributes.

The doors slid open, and a tall boy came strutting in. He was rather large for being only 14. Barbor looked down at his notes on the boy: he showed quite a talent for swords and axes. Big weapons for a big boy.

Predictably, Haliun went to the axe station. He swung the heavy weapon around, easily chopping through the flimsy dummies. Barbor nodded and made a check on his clipboard.

When Haliun was bored with the axe, he sauntered to the sword station. He picked up a short, broad blade and stabbed the dummy, hacking off limbs as easily with the sword as he had with the axe.

"Thank you," Barbor called, and Haliun stopped immediately. "You are dismissed." Haliun nodded and left, smiling a little. Showing confidence.

After Haliun left, there was a one-minute break for the Gamemakers. They talked amongst themselves- Haliun's session was quite impressive, but then again District One always was.

"Rika Tiell, District One female." The Gamemakers all sat up straighter and re-focused as the doors once again opened. Rika strode in. Barbor couldn't tell from this distance, but she appeared... almost _nervous. _How odd for a Career.

She moved over to the knives station. Barbor tried to think back- wasn't it the District Two girl that was amazing with the knives? Rika flicked the switch for the moving targets and held her knives in one hand. The targets moved around like a tribute running. Rika's knives flew- they all hit on or close to the bull's-eye. In fact, she only had one knife left when she had a slip-up; her last knife, instead of hitting the last target, clattered to the floor about an inch to the left. That right there made the difference between a ten and a nine in Barbor's mind. "Thank you, you are dismissed," Rika nodded, then walked over to the elevators.

"Talon Striker, District Two male." The Gamemakers all hushed immediately. District Two _always_ had the deadliest tributes; these would be the two to beat. Talon shoved his way through the doors before they were even fully opened, looking ferocious even from this distance. This would be exciting to watch.

Talon went over to the hand-to-hand combat station and requested a trainer- no, he _demanded _a trainer. One was immediately sent out. The fight was exciting to watch- even the trained fighter was no match for Talon, who had him pinned within a minute. But Talon took it slightly too far... he kept punching him even though he was already down. Barbor had to send for three more trainers to pull him off, and he still struggled, yelling something about One and someone named Thystle. Strange. Barbor would have to take a point off for the less-than-grand exit.

"Cecilla Evans, District Two female." Barbor watched as the girl from District Two walked in. She was pretty, like Talon; this pair would gain a lot of sponsors.

"Hello, how are you ladies and gentlemen on this fine afternoon?" Cecilla bubbled, smiling widely to show off sparkling white teeth.

"Fine, how are you?" The Gamemakers responded politely, if not a little shocked. Most people didn't interact with the Gamemakers; it was refreshing to see some courteous people.

"Great. I'm going to show you what I can do with a knife," Cecilla smiled as she waltzed over to the knives station. Barbor pressed his lips together tightly; Gamemakers don't like to see things repeated.

Cecilla flicked the switch and the fresh targets started moving again. With the design of the dummies it only took thirty seconds to take off the old ones and put on these new ones.

Cecilla proved to be amazing with knives- she was probably the best he'd seen in his time as a Gamemaker, which was close to fifteen years now. She would be getting a very high score.

"Samuel Sellers, District Three male." Barbor hurried to complete his notes on Cecilla as the servants brought out silver platters containing fruits and cheeses. The smell of the crackers and fruit and cheese wafted over, and he plucked a ripe grape the size of a gumball from the vine. The flavor bursted in his mouth, and he almost forgot that he was supposed to be watching the boy.

He went over to the bow-and-arrows station. Barbor half-watched as Samuel strung an arrow and aimed it at the target. The boy missed by about an inch, and he blushed. Barbor made a note on his clipboard. The boy tried again; this time, miraculously, it landed a mere half-inch from the center. This improved his score, but only slightly. In The Hunger Games, it's the first shot that counts.

"Thank you," Barbor said after Samuel tried a few more times. He would be receiving a mediocre score, as only half of his shots came even close to the bull's-eye.

"Ophlidia Aulis, District Three female." A small girl with brown hair came in then. Barbor had heard the Head Trainer, Celtix, say that the District Three girl spent all of her time at the obstacle course. He would have to see how good she was at that.

Ophlidia looked a little nervous as she went to the start of the course. Barbor took pity on her- someone that small wouldn't make it very far. Then the bell started, and she took off.

Barbor was blown away by her sheer speed. She moved through each obstacle with ease, and they had just changed the course an hour ago! She made it to the end in record time. The Gamemakers sat there, stunned, as she moved to the ropes course. Impressive for someone so tiny. She made it through the ropes course just as easily, barely hesitating. _If only this would help her in the arena... _Barbor mused as he watched her complete the course.

"Sven Haphesby, District Four male." Barbor felt bad for Barbella; she was stuck watching the tributes from a one-way mirror in the other room, not enjoying this fabulous feast and free entertainment. But, alas, what happens in the waiting room is just as much a part of the score as the actual session. He helped himself to some bruschetta as Sven strode to the spear station.

Sven wielded the spear like it was an extension of his arm. He was quite excellent, he threw the weapon with so much force it went through the dummy from the front and went out the other end, sticking to the wall. Some of the other Gamemakers let out low whistles; the ones who weren't too focused on the appetizers, at least.

"Hunter Blackthorne, District Four female." The girl took her time as she went over to the archery station. Another archer? This bunch sure lacked originality. Last year the District One girl used a whip, and even the boy from Ten could use a crossbow. _Those _are interesting weapons.

Hunter didn't seem to think as she easily loaded the arrow and shot around the room. Then, sensing she wasn't getting enough attention, she turned and shot through a hole in the rope's course. It went right through, not even skimming anything. She then chose a flaming arrow- Barbor caught his breath. Just a centimeter off and she would catch the whole net on fire. Not that they wouldn't get it out quick enough, but it would be such an inconvenience.

The flaming arrow went right through the space and struck the wall, the flame stuttering for a minute more before it blew itself out. Hunter gave a sarcastic little bow, then left without being dismissed. Barbor bit back a smile. She was a _fiery _one, alright.

"Marck Seymour, District Five male." Barbor reached for another helping of sweet chili shrimp. This puny little wisp of a tribute would have nothing to show them.

Since he was only half paying attention, it took Barbor a moment to realize that Marck wasn't there. He stared at the doors for a moment, puzzled, before Marck was pushed in by a rough hand. Probably Celtix. Marck looked scared out of his mind, glancing around like he wasn't sure what to do. Barbor sighed, impatient. All the exciting districts were done, and now he just had to sit around and watch all the lesser tributes fumble with weapons and attempt to light fires.

Marck went over to the slingshot station. He loaded a sharp rock and fired. It landed on the outer edge. Some of the Gamemakers started talking to each other lazily, not paying attention to Marck. Barbor had to pay attention; _someone _had to be able to determine a score.

Marck shot a few more, none of them hitting the center, then went and ran around for a minute. Not too impressive. "Thank you, you are dismissed." Barbor said, and Marck left the room.

"Aria Franks, District Five female." The doors opened on a tall girl with red hair. She came in and went straight to the knives station. This was starting to get irritating. She took her time choosing her blades, weighing them in her hands and doing some test throws. She had better be good if she was taking all this time...

Aria threw her first knife. It hit, but it only landed in the shin. She threw another; this one landed in the forearm. She threw more: they landed in the hip, the hand, and the shoulder. Nowhere fatal. She would get a mediocre score. "Thank you, you are dismissed." Barbor said, bored. This was his least favorite part of being Head Gamemaker.

"Folton Gray, District Six male." Barbor's expression darkened. He hadn't been Gamemaker during Destin Gray's Games, but everyone knew of the scandal when he used the mutts against the other tributes, winning at only age thirteen. Barbor didn't even need to watch this; he had instructions to give him the lowest score of the bunch no matter what.

Folton grabbed a knife and went over to the self-defense station. He was pretty good; if he wasn't destined for a low score, he would have gotten a six or seven. He expertly dodged each of the trainer's attacks, lasting a whole eight minutes. "Thank you, you are dismissed." Folton walked out of the room, shoulders slightly hunched.

"Valentina Morocco, District Six female." Barbor perked up a little. Valentina was beautiful, at least by District standards. Her luscious brown curls and smooth tan skin and gorgeous chocolate eyes were mesmerizing...

Barbor snapped out of his trance as Valentina went to the knives. She was good, but Barbor was bored of knives. After a few close throws, Valentina went over to the herbs station and made a salve that could help heal a burn. Not bad, but not exactly amazing, either. "Thank you, you are dismissed," Barbor watched her as she walked out, hips swiveling slightly. He was sad to see her go.

Avoxes brought out the main course as soon as the doors closed behind Valentina. The scent of a roast pig, creamy mashed potatoes, spinach and apple salad, buttery corn, pearly white rice, and thinly sliced roast beef wafted over him. He reached for a plate and dug in to the beef, savoring the bursting flavor.

"Pip Curry, District Seven male." Pip Curry walked in then. He was broad-shouldered- he seemed strong. Barbor watched with mild interest as he bench-pressed one hundred pounds. Barbor's eyebrows raised a little- this was pretty good for an inexperienced boy from Seven, especially one that was a merchant's son. Pip got up from the bench and went over to the boxing station, hitting dummies. He let out little grunts with each punch; bag swung around wildly.

Pip stopped punching and stood there, breathing heavily. Barbor waited a second to see if he was going to do anything else before he said, "Thank you, you are dismissed." Pip nodded and left a little self-consciously. Barbor wondered who he had been fighting in his mind- or who he had been fighting _for._

"Basil Pierce, District Seven female." Barbor took a plop of mashed potatoes, then turned his attention back on the door. Only half of the Gamemakers were paying attention at this point; the rest were asking when the wine was coming or taking food.

Basil sprinted into the room- she was very fast. Barbor's eyes followed her swift movement to the axe station. She grabbed two small axes while she was still running, then threw them at dummies. One stuck in the forehead while the other sliced off an arm. Basil just kept running, doing another lap and grabbing yet another axe, which she also threw. It would have sliced clean through the intestines of a real person. Basil just ran to the elevators and punched the button. Barbor barely had time to say, "Thank you," before she was gone, just like that.

"Corduroy Davis, District Eight male." Barbor took a large spoonful of mashed potatoes; he had forgotten to eat when he was watching Basil.

Corduroy came in and went to the spear station. He chose one with a long silver shaft, very aero-dynamic- it was the best model out. He was very good at choosing weapons. He positioned himself so in front of the target and heaved it- it went right into the heart. Barbor watched with interest as he threw a couple more spears, each one on or close to a fatal area. Corduroy then did a lap around the track that surrounded the arena, and he was pretty fast. The Gamemakers that were actually watching nodded at each other. He would get a pretty good score. "Thank you, you are dismissed." Corduroy jogged to the elevators, and the teams quickly replaced the dummies in the spear station.

"Kiara Siebel, District Eight female." The District Eight girl calmly jogged out to the center of the room.

She then commenced to cartwheel in a circle, shouting, "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" with each one. All the Gamemakers that weren't paying attention immediately looked at her, curious. Once she saw that all eyes were on her, she went to the dagger station and threw the knives, jumping high with each one. She looked quite spazy, and the Gamemakers chuckled softly. She sure knew how to put on a show.

The knives all landed in a tight circle around the stomach. Kiara turned and smiled, then jogged to the center of the room and did another cartwheel. "Thanks for watching!" she yelled in a preppy voice before running out of the room. How odd- but at least she got everyone's attention.

"Clay Watson, District Nine male." Clay walked in smoothly. Barbor watched him carefully as he went to the knife station. Clay had a little tendency to steal things, and he doubted being in the Capitol would change that. Clay walked right by the knife station without touching anything. He kept walking, passing the camouflage station, then the slingshot one, the fishing area, and even the edible plants station, still without doing anything. He was just walking around in a circle.

Or so it seemed.

Clay stopped by the doors. "Thank you for your time," he said before pressing the elevator button. "Oh, wait a minute, I forgot to give you something."

The Gamemakers all gasped as he dumped a knife, a jar of red paint, a slingshot, a roll of fishing line, and a handful of berries. He then turned around and stepped onto the elevator, leaving everything on the floor. The Gamemakers all gaped at the pile, wondering how on Earth he had done it. Barbor, eyes narrowed, reached for the phone by his chair. "Security, check that boy's pockets," he said. There was no way that theif had given it all back.

"Taffy Sweedums, District Nine female." The Gamemakers chuckled at her name. She was the famous "Fainter" from the Reapings and Chariot Rides. She was quite possibly the clumsiest person Barbor had ever seen; she had even fallen out of a tree.

Taffy walked in cheerily, bouncing around on her heels. She made her way over to the camouflage station- well, attempted to, anyway- and tripped over a fake tree root. She landed sprawled out on the floor for a minute before making her way to her feet, her face beet red. The Gamemakers laughed softly.

Taffy then proceeded to paint her arm; she blocked the Gamemaker's view of what she was painting with her rather large backside. After nearly thirteen minutes of boredom and anticipation, she turned around. The Gamemakers stared at her arm, which was an exact replica of a grassy area. She went over to the shelter station and laid down in the forest simulation. Her _entire arm _disappeared. The Gamemakers all gasped in delight- she was quite talented.

Taffy made her way to her feet, grinning from ear to ear. She walked out of the room, quite pleased with her self. Barbor and the other Gamemakers groaned- she had been walking along the wall, so there was now a long green smudge around the side of the wall.

A team was dispatched to clean up the mess. It took a couple of minutes, but at least the paint hadn't dried. "Esther Glade, District Ten male." Barbor glanced down at his clipboard; it was another twelve-year-old.

Ester came in. He was very small, and his dark skin was stark in contrast to the freshly cleaned walls around him. He went over to the slingshot station like Marck. He loaded up a simple wooden one and shot- it landed right in the center. He shot a couple more- each one went through, leaving one giant hole in the middle of the target. He was a good shot, but a slingshot stood no chance against someone like Talon with his powerful fists.

"Lindia Elmswood, District Ten female." Ah, the mayor's daughter. Lindia came in, trembling from head to toe. She looked scared out of her mind- not good. She hesitated for a minute, unsure of where to go. Barbor bit back his impatience as she shifted from foot to foot.

Lindia went over to the medicinal station, where she grabbed some supplies and went over to a dummy. Once there, she stabbed it with a knife. She was unsure of herself; the stab was more of a weak push. She pulled the knife out, then proceeded to "heal" the dummy. She was a very excellent healer; Barbor could tell even from this distance that it would have slowed the bleeding tremendously. At least she had something _different _to show them. "Thank you, you are dismissed." Lindia stood and looked around for a minute, then made her way over to the elevator. As the doors were shutting, Barbor saw her slide down the smooth elevator wall.

"Cobalt Denali, District Eleven male." The Avoxes brought out the desserts as Barbella announced the next tribute. Barbor grabbed a strawberry tart, his favorite, and shoved it in his mouth as Cobalt came in.

Cobalt looked seriously pissed, irritated, angry... pretty much every unfriendly expression in the world. _What is his problem? _Barbor thought, helping himself to a slice of key lime pie.

Cobalt stalked over to the sword station and grabbed a sword. He stabbed at the dummy, poking holes straight through. He actually lost control; he shoved so hard the sword went flying out of his hand and straight into the wall, where it stuck out. The Gamemakers raised their eyebrows at one another. Cobalt yanked the sword out of the wall, leaving a gaping hole behind. "Oops," he said sarcastically, loud enough for the Gamemakers to hear. He threw it onto the sword rack with a clatter, then stepped onto the elevator without waiting to be dismissed.

"Rosemary Greene, District Eleven female." Barbor stared at the giant hold in the mouth, his fork still halfway to his mouth. He shook himself out of his trance and shoved the fork into his mouth, chewing angrily. _These tributes were just bent on destroying the training arena, weren't they?_

Rosemary made her way over to the knives station. Barbor ground his teeth together. He just wanted to scream at these tributes. _How was he supposed to have an interesting Games when all they used was knives?!_

Rosemary threw her knives at the moving targets. They all stuck, though none went through the center. She was simply mediocre. But there was something about the slight hesitation before she threw, almost like she was aiming for non-fatal areas, that bothered Barbor. Why would someone _not_ want a good score? "Thank you, you are dismissed." Barbor said, and Rosemary walked out of the room, her expression impossible to read.

"Tai Morillo, District Twelve male." Barbor's hand itched like it wanted to grab a wine glass. But, alas, the Gamemakers weren't allowed to drink until after all the tributes went. The mentors complained it gave the lower tributes an "unfair chance." Why bother? It's not like they were going to win anyway.

Tai came in, looking a strange mixture of depressed and angry. He went over to the pickaxe station- surprise, surprise. Another District Twelve person who used a pick axe- and started chopping at the dummies. When that wasn't enough, he turned to the whole in the wall and started chipping away at it. Barbor watched, outraged, as the whole doubled in size. Who did this simple boy think he was?

When Tai was satisfied with the new size of the whole in the wall, he hung the pickaxe back on the rack and waited to be dismissed. "You are to leave, _now_," Barbor said coldly, glaring at Tai. These tributes sure would be hard to control in the arena.

Tai shrugged his shoulders and left without so much as an apology. Barbor muttered under his breath about manners as the last tribute was finally announced. "Acacia Andalu, District Twelve female."

Acacia walked in, looking a little jumpy. She went over to the knife station and took two with a curved blades. But instead of throwing them like the others had, she ran to the climbing station. Barbor watched, confused and intrigued, as she stabbed them into the trees. Then, to his utter amazement, she started to climb, using the knives to pull herself up. She must have had incredible upper body strength.

She made it all the way to the top, all the while making it look like it took no effort. Once she made it to the top, she looked at the Gamemakers for a moment before jumping off.

She landed on both feet very close to the ground. She stood and stabbed the knives into the tree she had just climbed. "Thank you, you are dismissed." Barbor said, pleasantly surprised by the new twist Acacia had put on using a knife. Finally.

The doors shut behind Acacia, and Barbor collapsed into his chair, relieved. This was always the most boring time, and he was glad it was over. The Games were now in just two days; the only pre-Games thing left were the interviews, and that was Caesar's job.

Barbor reached for a glass of wine from the tray the Avoxes had just brought out and downed it in one gulp.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Bet you thought the scores would be revealed in this chapter, didn't you? Well you're wrong! Ha! I'm going to make you wait. But I'm going to write the next chapter right now so you guys have an update in August because I'm just that nice :) Well I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Tell me what you thought.**


	22. Scores and Reactions

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry for the no updates this month, but I warned you... I am officially back! I want to know who out of you guys is still reading this story, because I don't want the Victor to be someone's tribute who isn't reading this... o.O Please either PM me or review, just so I know. WE ARE ALMOST IN THE ARENA. I don't know how I'm going to do the interviews, I think I'll just do it like the beginning of this chapter with some short interactions for each character. Also, I'm fixing all the errors in other chapters! (I know I said this before, but I really mean it this time.) The next two chapters will be interviews, and then the bloodbath. Thanks, and I hope you all have/had a great start to the school year. (If you go to school... you know what I mean.) Also, I have decided to end each chapter with a little quote from a Tribute.**

**...**

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the Hunger Games Central, where we bring you all the latest news on the Hunger Games. I'm your host, Caesar Flickerman, and I am joined today by announcer Claudius Templesmith!" Claudius waves at the camera and Caesar keeps speaking.

"Tonight's special event is the unveiling of the scores. The tributes had three days to learn valuable skills for survival and fighting. At the end of those three days, each tribute had a private session with the Gamemakers to show off what they learned. Each tribute was then given a score from one to twelve, one being the lowest and twelve being the highest."

"A twelve has never been given, but let's see if that will be changed tonight!" Claudius chuckles. "But first, we have a special announcement for the tributes specifically from the Head Gamemaker himself, Mister Barbor Klutch!"

The two men turn to look at the video screen behind them, and the cameras zoom in, cutting them out of the picture.

"Tributes!" The video shows Barbor, smiling at the camera with his flashy gold teeth. "Happy Hunger Games. I know that all of you are wondering about the arena and what possibilities it will hold. Don't. You can never guess what lies just beyond the line of sight, or just out of hearing range. You can try to guess it and torture yourselves, or you can deal with it when it arises. It is my sole purpose to create the arena and guide The Hunger Games along it's path to greatness and victory, and you are all a part of this honor. I may be here calling the shots and making the decisions, but always remember one thing: Ultimately, it's the choices you make as tributes that decides whether you live or die.

I leave you now with those words- do with them what you will." Barbor does a little salute to the camera and it fades to black with the seal of Panem glowing through the darkness.

District One: Haliun Gritther and Rika Tiell

"Haliun Gritther, District One," Caesar looked up at the camera knowingly, trying to draw out the suspense. "A nine."

Haliun stared at the TV, his face a look of perfect shock. He had been expecting at least an Eleven, though he had hoped for a Twelve. "Good job, Haliun," Glint said, reaching over to pat his leg reassuringly, but Haliun jerked away from his touch.

"Rika Tiell, District One," Caesar drew out the appropriate card, "A nine."

Rika smiled a little in relief. She had thought that miss at the end would bring her down to an Eight or even a Seven, since Careers weren't supposed to miss. Caramel smiled and clapped her hand on Rika's shoulder proudly.

They settled back to watch the rest of the scores- both with very different reactions to the same score.

District Two: Talon Striker and Cecilla Evans

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Talon yelled into the already silent room. All he really achieved was cutting off the beginning of Caesar's announcement. Cecilla rolled her eyes behind his back.

"... District Two. A ten." Talon's mouth lifted up a little. The highest score out of the Careers so far, and no one ever got higher than a ten.

"Atta boy!" Brutus growled. "We can work with that!"

"Also from District Two, we have the lovely Cecilla Evans," Cecilla sat up a little straighter at the compliment. "Another Ten."

Cecilla shot a gloating smile over at Talon as her mentor congratulated her; they tied.

District Three: Samuel Sellers and Ophlidia "Haley" Aulis

"And now, from District Three, we have Samuel Sellers, with a score of... Six." Samuel stared at the screen, dismayed. What were his allies going to think when they saw this? _They probably wish they didn't invite me in with such a low score. I'll show them in the arena. _He thought bitterly. His mentor, Gorgon, tried to smile at him and failed- he was dismayed by the mediocre score.

"Ophlidia Aulis, District Thirteen," Caesar looked a little shocked at the score. "A Seven."

Ophlidia beamed as everyone congratulated her- a Seven was a really good score for someone so small. She tried to lock eyes with Samuel, but he refused to look at her.

He was beaten by a _dwarf thirteen-year-old girl._

District Four: Sven Haphesby and Hunter Blackthorne

"Sven Haphesby, from District Four," Caesar messed up a little on the long name, but he plowed on anyway. "With a score of Ten." Sven smiled broadly, and their escort, who was once again dressed in all pink, actually squealed a little.

"And, ladies and gentlemen, with yet _another _ten, is Hunter Blackthorne!" All attention turned to Hunter, and the escort did another one of her pig-like squeals.

"Congratulations," Sven whispered from beside her as they settled back to watch the rest of the show.

Hunter just scowled at the screen and didn't answer.

District Five: Marck Seymour and Aria Franks

"Marck Seynour, from District Five," Caesar took another pause, and Marck's heart squeezed, "A four." Marck's heart fell as he watched the four burn away. The image was seared into his mind- he had been hoping for a Five, at least.

"Also from District Five, we have Aria Franks, with a score of... Six." Aria looked pleased with herself, though no one quite knew why but her. _My plan worked, _she thought slyly, sitting back against the cushions.

"Ah, who cares about scores! They don't mean much anyway!" Their escort, Jentson, tred for the joke. He always knew how to make them laugh- but no one laughed this time.

Scores mean very, very much.

District Six: Folton Gray and Valentina Morocco

"Next, Folton Gray, with a score of... Three." Caesar said before quickly shuffling for the next card.

Folton stared in horror at the screen, where the number three was burning. He had been expecting this, but it still felt like a slap in the face as the image was burned into his mind. _I deserve at least a six, _Folton thought in despair.

Blithe stared at Folton in horror- that was the worst score so far. Destin, however, pat his son on the back grimly.

"And the beautiful Valentina Morocco of District Six, with a score of: six."

"Oh, yay!" Blithe gushed, glad to have a tribute with a score higher than five. Valentina smiled shyly, but she still looked stunning.

District Seven: Pip Curry and Basil Pierce

"Pip Curry, District Seven," Caesar said, once again drawing out the suspense, "A score of... Eight."

Pip smiled a little at Basil, who squeezed his hand softly. _Maybe, just maybe, _he thought, _I'll be able to bring her back home._

"And Basil Pierce, also with a score of Eight." Caesar looked mildly surprised as he read out her score, but he recovered quickly.

"Wow!" Minx, their escort, said proudly, patting them each on the back in turn.

"We can sell that," Sage, Basil's mentor, said. Barkley, Pip's mentor, nodded mutely.

Basil and Pip locked eyes, each thinking of only one thing: the other.

District Eight: Corduroy "Roy" Davis and Kiara Siebel

"Corduroy Davis, District Eight," Caesar said, and Corduroy perked up. He hoped Rayon would be proud of him when she heard his score. "With an... Eight." Corduroy smiled a little; maybe that score had given Rayon hope that he would come home to her.

"And now, Kiara Siebel, with a score of: Seven." Kiara nodded, not really showing any emotion. Their mentors and escort, however, were ecstatic.

"Yessss!" Their vampire-like escort hissed as he swished his cape around a little.

"You guys are in an alliance, right?" Woof asked. He was actually a little deaf in one ear from an explosion in the arena.

"Yes," Kiara answered, still stoic and without emotion. She didn't mention the other tributes in the arena; they had opted to keep it a secret.

Their mentors surely would have been against it.

District Nine: Clay Watson and Taffy Sweedums

Clay stared at the screen, looking almost bored, while Taffy rocked back and forth slightly, her chubby ace even paler than usual.

"What is I get a one?" Taffy choked out, and Clay just rolled his eyes.

"Then there's nothing you can do about it," Clay barked at her, and she shrank back from his harsh tone.

"Clay Watson, with a score of... Seven."

Clay smiled a little. The Gamemakers couldn't resist giving him a good score, even though he had stolen things from him. But there were an awful lot of sevens and eights this year...

"And Taffy Sweedums," Caesar pauses for a little shuckle, "With a... Six."

Taffy looked so relieved it was almost comical. "I DIDN'T GET THE LOWEST SCORE!" she screamed to no one, then fell back into her cushion, smiling at the ceiling while everyone else in the room stared at her.

District Ten: Esther Glade and Lindia Elmswood

"And now, Esther Glade, receiving a Six." Esther bit his lip. He was a bit disappointed. A six normally would have been an average score, but when District _Eight _was scoring eights... He sighed a little. At least he got better than a three.

"Good job," Lindia smiled at him, then turned back to the screen looking nervous. Esther could imagine why.

"And Lindia Elmswood, daughter of the mayor, with a five."

Lindia's face fell a little, but only slightly.

"Esther, not bad. But Lindia... you really need to work on your interview angle," Lax said, staring at Lindia's red face with wicked amusement. He seemed to get pleasure out of torturing his tributes.

"And you need to work on your manners," Esther shot back before he could stop himself. Everyone turned to Esther, eyes wide. This was the second time he'd spoken out against their escort. Lax walked out of the room, looking indignant.

As soon as Lax was gone, both mentors smiled and clapped him on the back.

District Eleven: Cobalt Denali and Rosemary Greene

"District Eleven, Cobalt Denali. With a score of... Five."

Cobalt wasn't really surprised. After stabbing a giant hole in the wall and throwing his sword on the floor without waiting to be dismissed, he had expected to be brought back and forced to apologized. But he guessed they didn't do that kind of thing in the arena.

"Rosemary Greene, scoring a... Six." Caesar said, clearly a little bored after announcing all the scores.

Rosemary bit back a smile. Everything was going according to plan. Nobody would view her as a threat, not even her alliance... for the time she would be with them, anyway.

Everything had fallen into place exactly as she had planned.

District Twelve: Tai Morillo and Acacia Andalu

Tai stared at the screen, looking at it but not really seeing it. He was still battling that deep, crippling depression, but shopping that hole in the wall in front of the Gamemakers had felt good. He would surely pay for it now, though.

"From District Twelve, Tai Morillo, scoring a six."

Tai's eyebrows raised a little. He guessed they must have wanted a little spunk.

"And last, but certainly not least... Acacia Andalu, scoring a Seven."

"Ooh, good job! That's the highest score we've had in years!" Their escort, Harper, bubbled.

Maybe District Twelve stood a chance this year.

**NEXT CHAPTER TEASER: "Why don't you just crown me now, it's not like anyone else has a chance at defeating me." - Guess who says that.**


	23. Final Thoughts

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know that everyone who was reading this has probably forgotten about this story, but I am determined to finish it. To be honest, I forgot about fanfiction and this story until last week. I considered just never finishing the story, but I'm almost at the Games, so it wouldn't really be fair. I had a winner picked out, but I forgot who it was so... everything will be as much a surprise to me as it is to you. I tried writing the interviews, but I couldn't. It was so hard for some reason. Sorry for all of you who contributes something to it, if I can write them later I will. So I'll just do last thoughts instead. Just a warning, there is a lot of "wondering" in this chapter, I'm, really sorry, and if by some miracle someone's still reading this, I hope you enjoy :) (Yes. That was my pathetic note after I've disappeared for months.)**

**...**

District One: Luxury

Rika Tiell, 17, POV:

_A giant forest with man-eating bears? A volcanic island surrounded by burning water? A giant cake?_

I know it's useless, but I can't help but wonder what the arena will be.

And who might kill me.

I question Cecilla's and Talon's sanity; they seem to get enjoyment from pain. Which is always fun, right?

I wish I had just let Penelope Qualton come to the Games, but it's too late now. I wonder if my father regrets forcing me to volunteer for the Games. Probably not. H actually thinks I can win.

I just don't want to be killed by Cecilla or Talon.

Haliun Gritther, 14, POV:

Maybe I shouldn't have volunteered.

I only got a nine in training- maybe if I had waited a few years, I could have gotten a twelve.

But it's a little too late for second- guessing.

I bet Laurane is so proud of me for getting such a high score for being so young. She probably can't wait until I get home so I can shower her with jewels with my Victor's money. Not that I'll be spending it on her.

I flex my arm muscles, which are sore from training so hard. I'll need all of my strength for tomorrow.

I need all of my strength so I can win.

District Two: Masonry

Cecilla Evans, 16, POV:

_I'm running through an ever-changing landscape; sometimes I am surrounded by trees and running over rocks, other times I run on a beach with water lapping at my feet. _

There is a figure ahead of me with short, chestnut hair that I immediately recognize as Hunter. I clutch the pair of knives in my fist tighter, waiting for the perfect moment to throw them.

Hunter slows down; there is defeat etched in her face when she turns to me. A slow smile spreads across my face- Hunter, at my mercy? I've waited a long time for this.

I select a long, wickedly sharp blade and hurl it at her.

My eyes flicker open and I sigh- it was just another dream.

But Hunter will be mine in the arena.

Talon Striker, 18, POV:

I fall into my bed and relax. When I get out of the arena, I want a bed just like this- with soft feather pillows and a mattress like a cloud.

I bet all of the other tributes are lying in their beds, sniveling about how they're going to die in a few hours and crying for their mommies. The little wimps. Why don't they just crown me now, it's not like anyone else has a chance at defeating me.

I wonder if this is what Thyme felt like before she went into the arena. She was probably pretty confident- she also scored a ten. For a second, I wonder if her cockiness got her killed, and if the same thing will happen to me.

Nah, I will avenge her death.

No one will ever forget the name Talon Striker.

District Three: Electronics

Ophlidia Haley Aulis, 13, POV:

I sit on my bed, my knees tucked under my chin and my thin arms wrapped around my legs.

I bet this is what Candace was like last year after she volunteered for me. It's ironic how, even though she saved me last year, somehow I'm still here.

My fate was inevitable.

Tears are falling down my cheeks and onto my silk-covered knees. I wish my mother was here to comfort me.

I don't understand how I fooled myself into believing I had a chance of winning; the truth is, I'll probably die in the bloodbath.

Because when are the odds ever in the favor of a thirteen-year old dwarf-girl?

Samuel Sellers, 16, POV:

I wonder what my Mom will think when she watches the Games tomorrow.

That is, if she actually remembers that I'm her son and I was Reaped.

I need to win. I need to get my mother medication; I need to actually hear her say _my _name when she sees me, not my father's for once.

Or at least remember she has a son.

I know every second of sleep I can get is precious, but it I can't force myself to sleep. It's funny how being in this sort of situation does that to you.

At least I actually have a shot at winning. I have two alliances, I did pretty well at my interview, and I can set traps.

I hope the odds are "ever in my favor."

District Four: Fishing

Hunter Blackthorne, 17, POV:

I wish I had a bow in my hands.

Whenever I shoot, it's like I'm in a different world; my mind clears, and all I focus on is shooting.

But I don't have a bow unless they hid one in the toilet, so instead I pace around the room. It doesn't really have the same effect as shooting, though.

Maybe I should thank my parents for forcing me to train everyday. At least I can shoot, unlike that poor girl from Six who almost shot herself in the foot.

Hopefully among the thousands of air-headed Capital people I'll have at least a few sponsors. They were easy enough to win over.

But as long as I have a bow, I'll be fine.

Sven Haphesby, 16, POV:

I spend my last few hours with Andra.

I remember the morning of the Reaping on the beach- was it only a week ago? It feels like a million years have passed. I don't know when it switches to a different memory, but suddenly it does, and I'm running through the water, hand in hand with Andra. We swim out, way past the buoys like we always used to.

We keep swimming until our arms ache, and then we just tread water, District Four far behind us. Suddenly, I want to keep going. To swim with Andra forever and see what's on the other side of that ocean. We could make it, together. I almost suggest it, but then she splashes me and calls, "Race ya!" Then she turns back to land, and I follow her.

I wonder what would have happened if we had kept swimming.

District Five, Power:

Aria Franks, 18, POV:

Miana, my little sister, with her piercing green eyes and small body.

Jarvis, my little brother, who tries to stay strong even when he's afraid.

Lizabeth, who always took care of me and who has a daughter of her own now.

Gena Rose, my best friend, who was almost like another sister to me.

Chase, who loved me unconditionally and would have maybe one day been my husband, if things had been different.

These are the faces that flash through my mind, over and over, like an on-going video tape that I can't stop.

They are the reasons that I have to win.

No matter what.

Marck Seymour, 12, POV:

I lay on my side, twirling Kyla's good luck charm in my hand. Jentson told me it was an "i-pod." Apparently it was something that played music in the time before Panem and music could be played from chips in flakes of glitter.

This is the only piece of home- and Kyla- I have left. I wonder if Kurt was telling the truth, and if Kyla really was taken by the Peacekeepers. I really hope she wasn't. She's the only person who can help my parents through this, give them a reason to live.

I wonder how I'll die. It's not a question of if; it's a question of when. In the history of the Games, there has never been a twelve-year-old winner.

But if I was reaped out of hundreds of names, then maybe, just maybe, the odds will let me win.

District Six: Transportation

Valentina Morocco, 16, POV:

_"Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true._

Here is the place where I love you."

I hear my mother singing the lullaby in my head, just like when I was a baby.

As the tears fall down my face, I sing softly to myself. My voice isn't nearly as good as my mother's, but it makes me feel close to her. It makes me feel closer to my whole family- we always knew Valkerie or I could be Reaped, but we never actually considered it. I think of all the things I will never experience again- my father's dumplings, my mother's singing, my sister's laugh, our sing-alongs.

Cecilla's threat circles in my head- "You better watch your back, you little whore."

I just hope my death isn't too painful.

Folton Gray, 13, POV:

My father sits on my bed, clutching me to him and stroking my hair. I'm thankful that at least I'll be able to spend my last night with my father.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmurs over and over.

"I love you too, Dad," I say, tears falling down my face and onto his shirt, which is now soaked through.

"I'll be right here, my boy," my father says, pulling back to get a look at me, "I'll try to keep your mother strong," he says.

I know he's trying to deal with the pain, but I know while I was training he was sneaking some morphine- he already knows I'm going to die.

I bury myself in his arms again, and we cry some more.

District Seven: Lumber

Basil Pierce, 14, POV:

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I knew I would never fall asleep.

I got up and crossed over to the doors. I punched in the code, but instead of the doors sliding open, the blinking words "ACCESS DENIED" lit up the screen.

The corner of my mouth lifted in a rueful smile; I should have known they wouldn't have given us the chance to escape.

We would be trapped, penned in until the last minute.

I fall back into the bed, which feels empty and cold without another body in it. I think of Pip, who is just next door. I know what he's thinking- he's going to kill himself and get me out of the arena.

But I don't plan on letting that happen.

Pip Curry, 15, POV:

It's so surreal to think that this will be my last night alive.

Actually, that's not true- it's my last night _outside_ of the arena. The truth is, I don't plan on making it out alive.

I plan on getting Basil out of there- even if it means my life. Which it does.

I look out the window at the Capital streets below. They're bustling with people, partying before the Games. I remember that just a few hours ago they were sitting on the stands, watching live as I was interviewed.

I walk over to the wall that separates my room and Basil's. I imagine her lying awake and thinking about the arena. About me, too.

I will treasure our last days together.

District Eight: Textiles

Kiara Siebel, 17 POV:

I look at the forest around me, with the towering oaks that have been there for hundreds of years surrounding me. Birds twitter in their nests somewhere above me, unseen, and a breeze sways the branches far above me.

I reach out my hand to grab a falling leaf, but where I should feel the slippery green leaf, I fill only cool, hard glass.

I step back from the window, and the illusion disappears. I am once again in my rich Capital room with its plush carpeting, wearing my silk pajamas.

How many hours, days, months have I spent daydreaming of escaping into the woods and never looking back? Now, it seems almost ironic that I should get my wish,

I will never be returning from whatever I am being thrown into.

Corduroy "Roy" Davis, 17 , POV:

I wish Rayon were here.

Well, I don't wish Rayon were _here_, because then she would be thrown into the arena with me. But I would give anything to kiss her one more time, to even _see _her again. I wonder if she's proud of me and if she's laying awake right now, at this very moment, thinking of me like I am of her. The thought gives me a small sense of comfort.

I have to win for her. I always knew we would end up married; I never even gave a thought to the fact that one of us might be Reaped. At least it was me and not her- this way, at least she will have a future. Whether it's with me or not.

At least we're not like the unfortunate pair from Seven.

When I close my eyes, I see Rayon's blue ones twinkling back at me.

District Nine: Grain

Taffy Sweedums, 16, POV:

I make my way to the bathroom for the third time tonight, feeling along the wall so I don't fall on my face.

It doesn't work; I trip over the corner of the rug, and land sprawled on my stomach with a heavy thud. A few seconds later, there's a knock on the door. "Are you okay?" a voice asks from the other side. I have a nurse near me full-time.

"Yes," I call back, thankful she can't see my red face.

After I relieve my bladder without hurting myself, I take a look at myself in the mirror. My doughy face, my frizzy hair. This could be the last time I see myself.

I'm careful not to fall on my way back to bed- it's a small victory for me.

I just hope I don't fall off my plate before the gong sounds.

Clay Watson, 15, POV:

I check my pockets one last time- I still have the lighter, the knife, and a few pieces of chocolate I took at dinner. I'll be slipping this into my underwear tomorrow- the Head Gamemaker warned I would be frisked before the arena, but I doubt they'll be checking _there_.

Not much, but a lot more than any of the other tributes have now.

I wish I could see the looks on the Gamemaker's faces when they see me pull all of this out of my pockets. At least Guy will get a kick out of it.

I know most of the other tributes are thinking about their family and blah, blah, blah. Honestly, I'm glad to be away from them. I'm better off without them.

And when I get home, I'm not giving anything to my scumbag stepfather.

District Ten: Livestock

Lindia Elmswood, 14, POV:

My pillow is soaked through with tears.

Every time I try to stop crying, more tears come. This shouldn't happen. Not to the mayor's daughter. I was supposed to be safe.

I don't want to die. I had my whole life ahead of me, but the Games has torn that away from me. "Mommy," I moan into my pillow, "Mommy."

I want my mom her now, to hold me and sing me to sleep like she used to when I had nightmares. I want my dad to stroke my hair back from my face and tell me that everything is going to be okay.

But I will never see my parents again- the Games have taken even that from me.

I think about how this will be my last night alive, and I cry even harder.

Esther Glade, 12, POV:

Memories flash through my head; memories of my mother, singing to me softly with her calming voice; my brother, running around the District like a madman and always getting into some sort of trouble. I always wished I was more like him. Not in the six-year-old-can't-tie-his-own-shoes way, but because he is already so much braver than I am.

But I'll never be able to tell him that, because I'll never see him again.

The tears, which had only just stopped flowing, pool over my eyes again.

The only bright spot in this black hole is Marck; I never thought I would make a friend with the Games.

But it's not like either of us has a chance anyway.

District Eleven: Argriculture

Rosemary "Rose" Greene, 17, POV:

I stare out my window and look down at the Capital citizens far below, bustling around, as insignificant in this world as the ants they resemble now.

We are all insignificant in this world, just pawns on the board of the Capital's game. Which I'm stuck in the middle of.

I can't decide if I trust my alliance or not. The girl, Kiara, seems very clever- I like intelligence, but she's the only one who I feel _could_ beat me, if it came down to us.

I don't plan on letting it get that far, though.

I decide to just run off when the gong sounds and not wait for anyone. Hopefully they won't find me, but if any of them do, I'll say I'm with them just to avoid the fight.

Playing for both sides.

Cobalt Denali, 18, POV:

_Damn. How can it already be the night before the arena? _

It feels like just yesterday I was home, killing a spider for Carnation.

Thinking of Carnation brings thoughts of Fraye, which put an uncomfortable lump in my throat. I'm not used to feeling mushy emotions; I'm more of a cynical guy.

To change the sad thoughts in my head, I think of the giant hole I chopped in the wall of the training room. I know I'll pay for that in the arena, but it felt good to ruin something of theirs like they ruined my life.

Or maybe, even though it can't change anything, I wanted to have a mini act of rebellion.

One day, the Capital will pay for what they've done.

District Twelve: Mining

Acacia Andalu, 18, POV:

By some miracle, I managed to fall asleep. Maybe because I've had about three hours of sleep in the last week.

When I dream, it's of Quillin:

_I walk into the house, tracking in a layer of coal dust from the mines. "Quillin, I'm home!" I shout out. Every night when I get home, I'm afraid she's dead- my father is abusive, and my sister has a habit of not shutting up._

"You're not my sister- you're too dark," she jokes. It's not considered "politically correct," but who is here to hear?  
>"I love you, Quillin," I say, pulling her closer.<p>

Even if it is a dream, it's nice to hold her. "I love you too," she whispers back.

Tai Morrilo, 15, POV:

_Maybe I should just jump off the platform tomorrow before the gong goes off._

I'm only half- joking. Sure, it would be a pathetic death, but what would he care? And it would be better than starving to death, being beaten with a spiky club, getting poisoned, or being eaten by mutts, among millions of other things.

I bet that my rat brother, Rai, is already sleeping in my bed. I'll bet he's glad I got Reaped, because I was the only thing keeping him from thieving everything we have. He doesn't give a crap about us; he only wants money.

Out of everyone in the Games, I could kill Rai, my older brother, the easiest. I wouldn't even blink an eye.

Happy Hunger Games.


	24. Bloodbath

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sick plus Computer= Update! This will be the last update of the year! *Tear* But don't worry, you'll hear from me in 2013! Umm... for the people who are still reading this, I present the bloodbath! My characters will die in the bloodbath (with one exception) but that one will not win... I just have plans for that character. Honestly, I don't care about reviews anymore; I just want to finish the story for you, especially The Head Gamemaker, who has been reading this story from the get-go. I hope it's not too unoriginal... I'll keep up a death list at the bottom of each chapter.**

**...**

Lindia Elmswood, 14, District Ten POV:

I'm shaking so much I can't even tie my own shoes- my stylist, Halla, has to tie them for me.

"Thirty seconds," The cool female voice is the only sound that fills the otherwise silent room. "Tributes, please proceed to your launching pads."

I'm frozen, unable to move. This is it, the moment I have been dreading since my name was called.

I make my way over to my tube and step inside. The doors seal around me, and my chest seizes up. I was never a fan of enclosed spaces; I can't breathe, and I start hyperventilating as I start moving up.

"Mom," I whisper, closing my eyes as tears threaten to spill over. "Mommy, Daddy." I know they can't save me- no one can. I know it's horrible, but all I want is to be home, to be in their arms, watching someone else die instead of me.

Samuel Sellers, 16, District Three POV:

My eyes dart around, drinking in my surroundings as quickly as my brain can comprehend them.

On all sides, we are surrounded by walls. With a start, I realize that they are not walls- not in the true sense of the word, anyway. The correct word would be a maze.

Directly across from me, behind the cornucopia, is what looks like a hedge. The bush is giant and deep green. The branches are studded with what look at first like colorful little beads, but upon further observation are identified as berries. A food source.

Or poison.

To my left is a tunnel-like opening; the inside is wood, and it is the only opening that has a roof, which could be useful if a storm comes along. However, it is completely dark inside, which means it could hold anything.

In the opening to my right is a thin river, which winds off into the distance. The "walls" are actually really tall trees, standing trunk-to-trunk. The ground is a soft dirt. The river _looks _safe, which means it probably isn't...

I turn around. At first I'm confused, because the wall is made completely of stone. I look closer, but I don't find anything else that sets it apart. The walls are ridged and have what appear to be hand and foot holds, so the walls could be easily scaled by someone who could climb. It looks simple enough.

But things are never that simple.

Folton Gray, 13, POV:

I have two choices:

Die now or die later.

It seems like I never had much of a choice- ever since my older siblings were each Reaped at thirteen, I knew what fate awaited me. I also knew that they would never let a Gray child survive.

I can either live for awhile longer but have a cruel, painful death later, or I can die now, quickly and painlessly.

The choice is simple.

I am going to do what no tribute before me has ever done before.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before stepping off my launch pad.

Acacia Andalu, 18, District Twelve POV:

I am nearly blown off _my_ pedestal by the shockwave of the explosion that rocks through the arena now.

At first, I can't comprehend what has happened- because surely this is impossible, right? No tribute has ever _jumped _off their platform before the gong rang... it was always the unspoken rule, the one everyone always understood.

But, amazingly, the boy from District Six has.

And, unfortunately, I am standing next to him.

A wave of body matter crashes down on me- I can't even identify what parts they are. Body parts fall from the sky like demented rain, and I hear the startled shrieks of the other tributes around me as though from a distance.

I am coated in a layer of blood and skin from a dead boy.

And the Games haven't even started yet.

The gong rings, but everyone is too shocked to move. Only the girl from Eleven and the Careers get off their pedestals. I turn my head and throw up on the ground, trembling as a thin sheen of sweat beads up on my forehead. I can't stop; everything I had managed to eat this morning comes up as I fall to my knees. I can't stop heaving even after my stomach is empty.

I don't know how long I have been there, but a low laugh from behind reaches my ears, and my body tenses. I turn around slowly.

"Say goodbye, District Twelve," Cecilla says, smiling cruelly at me before she throws her knife.

Talon Striker, 18, District Two POV:

As soon as the gong sounds, I lunge forward.

The death of some puny little lower District boy isn't going to slow me down; his death was inevitable anyway.

I sprint forward, running by all of the useless stuff around the edges. I need the good stuff.

I'm one of the first tributes there. I see Cecilla grab- one throwing knife? There don't appear to be any others... Hunter loads up a bow. I should take her out now, but I decide against the idea. She could be useful to me, and I need to take out the others before they can get away.

I grab a spiked mace and spot my first target. The little blonde girl- I think she was the mayor's daughter in her district-is frantically trying to grab a backpack, but it's staked to the ground. Clever- I realize with a start that everything is staked to the ground so the tributes can't just run away before the fun can begin.

I run out at her- she sees me coming and screams. "PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!" she shrieks, too scared to even run. I grin at her, and tears fall down her face.

I lift my mace and bring it down on her head. She screams, and blood pours down from the wound. She falls to the ground, clutching her head and rolling around in agony. I bring down my mace again, over and over.

By the time I'm finished, her face is nothing more than a bloody pulp. I draw out my mace for the last time- to my disgust, I see that one blue eyeball has stuck to one of the spikes. I pull it off and throw it to the ground beside her. Hopefully it'll be picked up with her body.

She was weak- she was bound to die anyway.

Hunter Blackthorne, 17, District Four POV:

A bow.

I grab the silver bow and load an arrow onto it. It feels so smooth and light in my hands, like it was crafter just for me.

I turn and spot my target- it's Samuel, the boy from Three. He's running, but it's simple enough to calculate where he will be when my arrow reaches him; I shift my bow ever-so-slightly to the right and release my arrow. It pierces him in the neck, and he falls to the ground. He pulls out the arrow, drowning himself in his own blood.

I look away, my eyes searching for my next victim. I see Talon beating a girl with his mace. Even though I'm supposed to be a bloodthirsty Career, the sight disgusts me, and I turn away.

My eyes lock with Sven's, who is holding a spear in his hand. He nods to me before grabbing another spear.

I survey the other tributes- the older boy from District Twelve has a pickaxe, and he's running towards the entrance with the river. A girl with curly brown hair that I recognize from District Six is also going that way; they stare at each other for several seconds before the girl turns and starts to run away. The boy is faster, though; he catches up to her and swings the pickaxe with all his might, digging the point into her chest. She coughs up some blood before falling to the ground, dead. The boy sprints into the section with the river, checking over his shoulder to make sure no one is following him.

My eyes lock on someone else, and I draw back my arm, preparing to release my arrow.

Pip Curry, 15, District Seven POV:

After the initial shock of the suicide of the boy from Six wore off, I sprinted into the Cornucopia.

My head whips around, searching for any tributes coming up behind me with a knife. I grab at a backpack and start to straighten, but the backpack won't budge. My brows furrow together, and I tug at it again before I realize that it's staked to the ground.

The Capital wants to guarantee fights.

I grab at the stake and use all of my strength to pull it out. I fall back and land on my butt- a sharp pain shoots through me, but I get to my feet and grab the green backpack along with an axe.

My breath catches in my throat- the boy from Eleven, Cobalt, is standing in front of me with a sword. I see regret in his light eyes, but I know he won't hesitate to kill me.

The axe feels chunky in my hands; I'm used to much smaller weapons. He draws his sword around in an arc; it slices my arm, and a gush of blood starts flowing from the gash. I yell out in pain and grab my arm, which is burning with pain. He moves to come at me again, and I stumble back, trying to staunch the flow of blood and hold my axe up at the same time. It's not working- he's about to plunge his sword into my heart and end my chances of getting Basil out alive.

A streak of silver shoots right by my ear- I can actually feel it brush my hair. It sticks in the right shoulder of the boy- he groans in pain and yanks the arrow out. He looks up at me and growls, "Goodbye for now," and runs into the darkness of the covered entrance, holding his shoulder and grimacing in pain.

I turn around just in time to see another arrow flying at me- I duck out of the way just in time. I dropped my axe during the fight, but I don't have time to look for it.

"Pip!" My head whips to the side- Basil is standing at the berry bushes, beckoning for me and holding two small throwing axes. I clutch my arm and run to her, shouldering my backpack. At least she's still alive.

Esther Glade, 12, District Ten POV:

I search the mass of bodies for a small, familiar one- he is nowhere to be seen. Almost everyone else is gone, running into the mazes or already dead. But I don't see him among the bodies- _where is he?_

I want to run away, but I can't leave without Marck. I don't know how long I'd survive without him.

"Esther!" he runs toward me, clutching a slingshot and a loaf of bread. Not much, but the two of us need to get out of here fast.

Something small and silver falls from his pocket, and he turns around to grab it. I shout a warning at him, but it's too late- the boy from Two has already caught up to him. He easily scoops Marck's small body into his arms and snaps his thin neck without a second of hesitation. He throws Marck's toothpick body to the side and grabs the shiny rectangle, examining it.

I stifle a sob and turn to run, but I freeze up instantly. The big boy from One is standing there, holding a bloody axe in his hands. It's just like a scene from a nightmare.

I stumble back, but I can see Cecilla coming at me with a bloody knife.

I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

"Stand still- it'll be over quickly," Haliun says. He grunts and swings his axe.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" I scream in pain as the axe cuts through my stomach. It hasn't cut all the way through- he yanks it out, pulling out a rope of something pink and squishy. The edges of my vision are covered with black spots- I think I'm going to pass out from the pain as my insides spill out of me.

_Thwak!_

Another sharp pain, and then everything fades.

Rika Tiell, 17, District One POV:

One minute into the Games, and I'm already covered in blood and guts.

I was completely coated in Folton's insides after he jumped off his pedestal. I pick a small rope out of my hair and fling it to the side with a shriek- it's a piece of his small intestine.

I search through the piles of supplies and stacks of crates, trying to find a knife. But there are none to be seen- Cecilla has the only knife in the arena.

_Oh crap._

I see the small girl from Three frantically trying to pull a pack from the ground, but it's stuck. I glance around- next to me is a second bow. Not my preferred weapon, but I could easily hit her from this distance. I pull it off the crate it's on and string it, aiming at Ophlidia. I'm about to release the string, but for some reason I can't.

I've never killed before- the trainers back home always talked about it and I've practiced over and over, but it's different from _actually_ killing someone. Even though I'm supposed to be a big, bad Career, I can't bring myself to kill this little girl.

But apparently someone else is willing to.

Talon marches back, grinning. He's also covered in blood, but not because he was standing near Folton. I shudder. He's already killed two people.

"Oh, look who we have here," Talon growls. Ophlidia looks up and squeals in panic. "You better run, girl!" Talon snarls playfully, making a lunge at her to get her to run.

He likes playing with his food.

Ohplidia jumps to her feet and sprints, but Talon, with his long legs, will be too fast for her. Even I know it as I stand by, watching helplessly.

But then she does something I didn't expect her to do.

She runs to the cornucopia and starts to climb it. The rest of the Careers and I stand by, watching in awe as she scrambles to the top easily.

Talon doesn't hesitate- he climbs up after her. I'm worried for her- there is nowhere for her to go, she's trapped.

But for once, Talon's weight will be his downfall.

Literally.

He makes it about halfway up before falling to the ground. For one hopeful second, I think he might have broken his neck, but he shakes himself and stands. "Oh, so you want to play Games, huh?" Talon growls, not playing this time. "Hunter, give me your bow."

"Oh, just leave her up there!" the words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. "It's not like she's leaving any time soon."

Talon glares at me for a minute, considering. Then, "You're right. I want a guard watching her round-the-clock. If- and when- she decides to come down, you are to get me. I want to finish this."

I nod along with the others. When they return to picking through the supplies, I glance up at the girl. She looks small and scared, but for the briefest second, I'm sure she smiles at me.

Aria Franks, 18, District Five POV:

I turn a corner and lean against the stone, stopping for a second to catch my breath.

My heart is pounding like a drum, and adrenaline is shooting through my veins. Everything seems clearer- my senses are sharper. I rest my head against the cold gray stone behind me.

I hear footsteps, and I'm instantly on alert again. I don't see anyone else- they must be right next to me, only separated by a few feet of stone. I settle back against the stone, casting a weary eye around me.

I don't know how many people died at the bloodbath- I ran in, grabbed a canteen and a pack of jerky, and ran out as fast as I could. Sure, I prolonged my life a bit longer, but now I have no weapon to defend myself. I can only hope that I pick a weapon up from a dead tribute or that no one ever finds me. (Yeah, right).

_BOOM!_

My whole body stiffens- the fighting at the Cornucopia must finally be over. I count in my head as more cannon booms go off.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

Seven.

Seven cannon booms.

Seven lives ended.

These seven cannon boos will be the final memory of the seven dead children who will never leave the arena.

It's completely different- being in the arena hearing the cannons and sitting at home. It seemed less real at home, like it was fake death happening to children far, far away. But being here, and knowing the other children... it's hard to hear every cannon boom. Even though _I _didn't kill them, even though their blood isn't on _my_ hands, I still feel wrong, like I personally killed every one of them. It's so wrong.

And yet, the worst part is, I feel a small sense of relief and even some happiness with each cannon boom.

**...**

**THE DECEASED (IN ORDER OF DEATH):**

_1. Folton Gray, 13, District Six- Jumped off his pedestal before the gong, blown up by land mines._

_2. Acacia Andalu, 18, District Twelve- Knife through the heart by Cecilla._

_3. Samuel Sellers, 16, District Three- Shot in the nexk with an arrow by Hunter._

_4. Lindia Elmswood, 14, District Ten- Beaten to death with a spinked mace by Talon._

_5. Valentina Morocco, 16, District Six- Pickaxe through the chest by Tai._

_6. Marck Seymour, 12, District Five- Neck snapped by Talon._

_7. Esther Glade, 12, District Ten- Chopped in half with an axe by Hunter._


End file.
